A Little Light Shines
by northcaroline
Summary: “The joys of parents are secret, and so are their griefs and fears: they cannot utter the one, nor will they utter the other.” Speculation on THE SPOILER for the season four finale.
1. October 2009: Quickening

**Title**: "A Little Light Shines"  
**Author**: Caroline  
**Pairing**: Booth/Brennan  
**Spoilers**: Speculation on a speculation, really, of the season four finale.  
**Summary**: _"__The joys of parents are secret, and so are their griefs and fears: they cannot utter the one, nor will they utter the other." – Sir Francis Bacon_  
**Rating**: T

**Notes**: So, I wrote a concept blog (available at .com) to prove that _Bones_ wouldn't get boring if Brennan had Booth's baby. I came up with 22 ideas (for 22 episodes) for how they could involve Brennan's pregnancy in season five's storytelling. The problem? I had a _lot_ more than a paragraph on these 22 ideas. This will be a 22-chapter fic (not chronologically) chronicling the gestation of a Booth/Brennan offspring.

***

"Oh!"

At Brennan's unexpected remark, the rest of the forensics team looks up quickly to find her standing upright, one hand jumping to her abdomen.

"You okay, sweetie?" Angela asks, concern sweeping across her face.

Brennan looks confused for a few moments, trying to process the physiological events happening inside of her. After her pause, she looks back up at her colleagues and sighs. "I'm fine. I think I just felt the fetus move."

Smiles erupt all around. It's funny, really, how excited they all are by Brennan's pregnancy. She suspects there are a few reasons. For starters, she's the first of the scientists to experience pregnancy since the team was formed; for another, she knows they have to find it rather novel that it's _her_ getting ready to have a child. Finally, she knows they're enjoying the drama surrounding this pregnancy, excited by watching her and Booth interact now that they're expecting a baby together.

As if on cue, Angela speaks first: "You have to go call Booth!"

Brennan scoffs. "It moved. It didn't kick. If I told Booth, he'd want to come over here and put his hands all over me—"

"Bones!"

The rest of the team grimaces at her poor choice of words just as Booth swipes himself up to the platform with a case file in his hands.

"Why the long faces? What's going on?"

Everyone looks expectantly at Brennan, who jerks her hand away from her stomach and pretends to busy herself with the remains on the table.

"Bones?" he cranes his neck to meet her downcast eye, and she looks back at him with a faux-confused look.

"What, Booth?"

"What's your deal?"

"Oh, uh, nothing. Nothing." She concedes, vaguely: "I am experiencing quickening." His blank look and slight head shake signify his continued confusion, and she finds herself reluctant to explain—"I felt the fetus move."

His face suddenly changes, softening first and then erupting into unabashed glee.

"Oh, my God!" he shouts with a laugh. Immediately, he is at her side, both hands on her belly. "Where?"

For her part, Brennan does not look amused. She looks at him, his face lit up like a child's on Christmas morning and fully focused on the baby.

Turning back to the scientists, she grumbles, "See, I told you this is what he'd do."

The others just stand and watch. Seeing Booth and Brennan interact like this—an almost daily occurrence since she announced that they were having a baby together—is simultaneously heartwarming and horrific. And always entertaining.

"Booth, its movements won't be able to be felt externally for a couple more weeks."

"There's really something in there!" he whispers, amazed.

"Yes. There is something in there. A fetus."

"Aw, Bones, could ya stop calling her a fetus?"

"Could you stop calling it a _her_?"

"Could you stop calling her an _it_?"

"You have no way of knowing the sex! That's complete conjecture until the sonogram next week, and I don't want to know anyway."

"You don't want to know? Don't you want to be able to call the baby _he_ or _she_?"

"_It_ is a perfectly fine modifier until the baby is born. Which, by the way, is when it will stop being a fetus and start being a baby."

"Bones, there's a tiny person inside of you, growing little fingers and toes and organs and bones, and now she's moving around in there—it's a _baby_. Our baby."

Brennan smiles at Booth for the first time since he got here. It's a sweet little moment, bonding over their fetus or baby or whatever. Angela is beaming like a mom sending her kid off to the first day of kindergarten. There are these moments she has, watching her best friend have all of these amazing wide-life experiences, where Angela becomes overwhelmed with pride. She knows it wasn't long ago that Brennan was terrified of things like this, could never imagine herself standing somewhere with a man's hands trying to feel for a tangible sign of the life they created. She's still the same old Brennan, refusing to call that precious little life anything other than a scientifically accurate "fetus," but she doesn't seem so scared anymore.

Hodgins nudges Angela out of her reverie to whisper, "Should we go?"

Brennan ruins her own moment by saying, "Booth, you can take your hands off me now. You're not going to feel anything."

Booth removes his hands with one last little pat and goes back to squint-talk with the scientists.

***

A few nights later, Booth is watching a baseball game on low volume while Brennan reads an anthropology journal on the couch beside him. Since the baby thing, they've been spending even more time together. She assumes he's trying to prove himself as a good father, like he's already there for her and their child, even though they are both pretty low-maintenance at this point.

At the commercial break, he reaches over and places a hand on her belly. She looks back at him with a face that says "Seriously?"

"What?" he asks, off her look.

"I haven't felt it move in hours. It's sleeping."

"Well, let's wake _her_ up then."

"Again with the _her_. Why are you so convinced it's a girl, anyway?"

"Just am."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Bones, of _course_ it's a girl. A beautiful, brilliant little girl, just like her mom." He presses gently into Brennan's belly, trying to provoke a response. He immediately provokes a response from Brennan, who swats his hands away.

"Stop it, Booth."

He's immediately concerned and removes his hands. "What? Did I hurt you?"

"No—that's just not the most pleasant sensation I've ever experienced. You're not going to spend the next four and a half months trying to feel it kicking."

"Yes. I am."

She scoots away from him and crosses her arms over her chest in irritation.

"I mean, I won't touch you if you don't want me to touch you, obviously, but, yeah, I'm going to spend the next four months trying to feel the baby move and kick and grow. Bones, I'm here. I'm in this."

"Please—at least be rational. I felt the fetus move at nineteen weeks, which is exactly on schedule. You'll have better luck feeling it once at twenty-two weeks. You have to give the legs a little more time to develop before you can feel a kick through my uterus, muscle, and skin. Trust me—I'll let you feel it when it happens."

"Okay."

She goes back to her journal and he half-heartedly turns back to the television. After a minute, he looks back at her to ask, "What's it feel like?"

She smiles curiously, and thinks about her response for a moment. "It's like a fluttering feeling underneath my stomach. Almost like a hiccup, but…not, exactly."

"Like butterflies?"

She thinks about his analogy before softly responding, "Yeah. Kind of like butterflies."

***

They're in the car when she feels the first real kick. Not just fluttering, but a solid foot or possibly an elbow against her belly.

"Whoa!" she yelps, eyes widening in surprise.

Booth is immediately on high alert. "What? What's wrong?"

"Pull over! Pull over!"

He does, immediately, all the while pleading, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" she assures, but her volume is high and her hands are gripping her stomach and his brain automatically goes to terrifying places.

Once he puts the car in park he looks at her with fear in his eyes. All is silent as she grabs his hand and puts it against her stomach right where the kick came from.

"Kicking?" he asks excitedly.

She nods in response, trying to concentrate as she waits for a follow-up.

His fingers splay across her abdomen and they sit perfectly still for several long moments.

Suddenly she erupts: "There!"

Booth looks up to meet her eyes with confusion.

"Right there! Did you feel that?"

He shakes his head. She moves his hand to where she felt kick number two, and lets him press his fingers delicately into her skin, as he whispers a soft, "Come on, baby."

Once again, she looks up at him, eyes wide. "That!"

"I can't feel it," he says, a little more dejectedly than he meant to. He removes his hand from her belly and starts the car. She keeps her eyes focused on her protruding stomach.

"Booth, this is incredible!" she exclaims.

"I know, Bones. It really is."

"Are you upset?"

He puts on a fake smile. It really shouldn't upset him. It's irrational. Soon, the baby will be kicking up a storm, and he'll be able to feel it. And soon after that, she'll be here, and it won't matter whether or not he could feel the kicking. In the grand scheme of this baby's life, this is very small. But then why does he feel like he's missing out on something spectacular?

"Nah, Bones. Maybe next time."

***

"Next time" comes and goes for another two weeks. She's stopped grabbing for his hand every time she feels one, because she's tired of seeing that sad puppy dog look on his face. He's stopped reaching out, too.

They're sitting on his couch, filling out case-close paperwork and eating Chinese food out of the containers.

Booth, who's been slightly disengaged from the pregnancy thing for a couple days, points to her stomach with a chopstick. "How's _it_ doing?"

Brennan is surprised by his pronoun, his tone, the pointed way in which he phrased the question. It makes her nervous.

"Fine. Asleep, I think."

"You can tell that?"

"Well, I can pretty much feel it moving around whenever it's…moving around." It's awkward, like she's sharing something with their child that he's not. And, logically, there are a lot that she's sharing with the baby that he's not—most notably, her body. But she's treading lightly because she knows that, rational or not, he's just a little bit jealous of her.

"Right."

"It seems to be most active in the morning, which is good. Studies have shown that the sleeping pattern of the fetus in utero correlates to the sleeping pattern of the baby after it's born."

"That's good."

"Booth."

"What?"

"What's wrong?"

He chuckles, but it's not a real laugh. It's appeasing and, if she's honest, feels a little condescending. "Nothing's wrong."

"You've been distant for a week."

"I'm _right_ here."

"Yeah, but you're—you're not talking to my uterus, you're calling it _it_—"

"I thought that's what you wanted?"

"It _is_, but I thought that's not what you wanted." She sits back and shovels two big pieces of kung pao chicken into her mouth.

"It's not about what I want." He gestures randomly toward her stomach as he continues, "This whole thing is not about what _I _want."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" she asks around a mouthful of food.

"It means, _Temperance_, that since _you_ decided _you_ wanted to have a baby, everything about what _I_ want has just gone by the wayside. And that's fine. Really, that's fine, because ultimately, what I really want is that baby. I want that, too. But now we're here and you're eating all the Chinese food and the baby's allegedly kicking and I just—"

He stops suddenly, noticing her fanning her mouth and reaching blindly for her glass of water. Immediately, he reaches down to the coffee table and puts the glass in her hand.

"Got a pepper there, Bones?"

She swallows half the glass before she stops with a loud gulp and reaches for Booth's hand. "Oh, my God," she says.

"What?" he asks, tentatively.

"Baby's awake. Baby's _very_ awake."

"I don't feel anything," he asks, trying to wrench his hand away. There's this nagging voice in the back of his brain that's giving him this completely irrational feeling of rejection from this baby.

She holds on tight. "Not kicking yet, just _really_ moving," she says with a giggle. "Baby didn't like that red pepper."

"Baby?"

Just then, the baby announces its presences with the biggest kick she's felt so far.

"Whoa!" Booth exclaims, his eyes big as saucers.

"You felt that?"

"_Yeah_," he breathes and then gasps again when a second and third follow in quick succession. When they both feel it, from opposite sides of her abdominal wall, their eyes meet in excitement and awe.

Another and another and another follow, and both Booth and Brennan keep their eyes glued to the action, exchanging sounds of surprise whenever another one is felt.

"Oh, my God," he murmurs, stroking his fingers gently across her belly. "Bones, there's a baby in there. Our baby is _in_ there."

"It really is."


	2. August 2009: Sibling Rivalry

**Title**: "A Little Light Shines"  
**Author**: Caroline  
**Pairing**: Booth/Brennan  
**Spoilers**: Speculation on a speculation, really, of the season four finale.  
**Summary**: "The joys of parents are secret, and so are their griefs and fears: they cannot utter the one, nor will they utter the other." – Sir Francis Bacon  
**Rating**: T

Notes: Here's chapter two! Basically everything in this chapter, I stole from Leigh Graham, who co-posts on my blog. She's the one who helped me get this from overly sentimental (and therefore wrong) to something a little better. (And she came up with the last line.)

***

"Don't you think it's a little early for that?"

"He's eight, Bones, and he's gonna figure it out sooner or later."

Like everything related to this pregnancy so far, the decision on when and how to tell Parker has become a Big Deal. Booth is concerned that, due to the unorthodox circumstances around his son's future sibling, Parker needs a lot of time to process and come to grips with the big brother thing. And the Bones thing. It's a lot for Booth to handle, let alone a fourth-grader.

"We should evaluate how long he needs to prepare in comparison to how he is likely to respond to my unmistakable physiological changes. A window of time should present itself as the most ideal period and that's when you should tell Parker about my pregnancy."

Truth is, Parker already suspects something's up. Parker's still participating in his cocurricular science activities at the Jeffersonian, and he picked up on Brennan's change in both personality and attire.

"He's already suspicious."

"How could he possibly—"

"You're a little, y'know, distracted, there, Bones, and you've got a bit of a baby bump going on. He hasn't put all the pieces together, but he's curious. What can I say? He's perceptive."

"I'll say."

"And, seeing as how this situation is more than a little complicated, I'd rather tell him everything up front before he makes up his own story."

"Everything?"

"God, no, not _everything_, Bones. For crying out loud."

She processes for a moment before conceding. "I understand your concerns and will support whatever you think is best for Parker's emotional adjustment. He's _your_ son, after all."

Booth sighs in relief. "Thank you. I'll let you know how it goes."

He moves to the door and she calls after him, "Good luck!"

***

After dinner, Booth brings Parker home and gets him situated at the kitchen table. He pulls out a fresh box of Oreos, pours two big glasses of milk, and sits down beside his son.

"Hey, buddy, we need to have a man-to-man talk."

"Okay, Dad," Parker says, barely paying attention as he dunks a cookie into his milk.

Booth puts his hand on Parker's to get his attention. "I have something very important to tell you."

The little boy looks confused, but he just shoves the cookie into his mouth and looks back at his father expectantly.

"You know Dr. Brennan, right?"

Parker curls up his face in disbelief: "Duh."

"Well, Dr. Brennan and I—we're going to have a baby together."

"You're _what_?"

"Dr. Brennan is…pregnant. There's a baby in her belly. And that baby is going to be your little brother or sister."

"Whoa," Parker says, his mouth hanging open to reveal a half-chewed Oreo.

Booth can't help but laugh a little. "Close your mouth, there, buddy."

It snaps closed.

"You surprised?"

Parker nods, eyes huge. "Is that why she looks so big?"

Booth laughs. He'd be lying if he said he didn't find Brennan's ever-so-slightly accentuated curves sexy. And she hasn't even put on that much weight. _Maybe _ten pounds. If Parker thinks she's "so big" at this point, just wait until he sees her in a few months. "Don't you ever say that word to her, but…_yeah_."

Suddenly, a thought noticeably crosses Parker's mind and he asks, "Wait—when did you get married to Bones?"

Booth takes a cookie for himself and dips it into his glass. _Here we go_, he thinks.

"Parker, we're not married."

"Oh. But—"

"Most people who have babies together are married. That's true. But look at me and your mom—we're not married and we have the best kid in the world."

"I didn't even know she was your girlfriend."

"She's not."

"Oh." Parker is totally confused, because this situation seems to go against everything he's ever been taught about babies. "Mom says that babies only come when the mommy and the daddy love each other very, very much."

"That's true."

"So you love Bones?"

"I love her very, very much," Booth says, repeating Parker's turn of phrase.

"So you love Bones, and she's having a baby who's my little brother—how come she's not your wife?"

Booth sighs, then uses his cookie to gesticulate as he says, "Because girls are very complicated."

Parker accepts this, and eats another cookie. For a moment, Booth thinks this conversation may have been a lot easier than anticipated. Then he sees his son focusing intently on eating dessert. This time, he's meticulous about his Oreo. Lost in concentration, he unscrews the cookie into two pieces. He chews thoughtfully on the frosting side before dunking the other half into the milk just so.

"Got something on your mind, there, Parker?"

Parker looks back up at his father, his face etched with concern.

"Where's it gonna live?"

Booth is slightly taken aback. Honestly, he and Brennan haven't discussed this particular issue yet.

"Well, I don't know for sure yet, but probably with…Bones." All of a sudden, his heart aches at the thought of Brennan and the baby across town every night. That is exactly why he didn't want to do this in the first place. Didn't want another situation like he had with Parker, who he saw less often than he wanted and only ever saw one-on-one. Parker's baby smiles and laughs and firsts were amazing, but it was pretty sucky not to have someone to look at and say, "Did you _see _that?"

And while he knows it'll be different with Brennan, he's not going to be 100% integrated into _this _child's life, either. "But I'll spend a lot of time with the baby, and we'll have baby stuff at our house, too."

"So will I see the baby ever?"

"Yes, Parker. Of course. The baby's gonna be _your_ baby brother or sister. You're going to be its favorite person in the entire world."

He considers this for a moment, then asks, "But—if the baby is with Bones, and you're with the baby, when are you going to see _me_?"

There's the kicker. The classic older-child question. And usually, when this happens, the big brother has two parents ready to stave off feelings of neglect and jealousy. But for Parker, this change means going from something concrete and stable (father and son) to something vague and confusing and awkward (father, son, baby, "partner"). They don't have a chapter on this in those "What to Expect" books.

Booth meets Parker's eyeline directly and holds it intently. "I am going to see you exactly as much as I see you now. It might be different because of the baby. We might have a little less one-on-one time, you and me. But just because there's going to be this big change for us doesn't mean that I love you any less. Okay?"

Parker doesn't look completely convinced, but he offers an "Okay."

Booth gets up and grabs his son into a big hug. He plants a kiss on the top of his curly-haired head and reminds him, "I love you, Parker."

Parker is quiet and doesn't respond. He doesn't look upset, really, or angry, which is definitely a plus. But he's got that look that Brennan gets sometimes—pure, unbridled, concentration on a concept.

"You okay?" Booth asks, turning on the charm as he tries to cheer Parker up, convince him that this idea really isn't so bad. Okay, maybe it was. Maybe it is. But there's no going back now, so the best thing to do is just smile about it. Right?

"Dad? Do you think we could go see her tomorrow?"

"Who—Bones?"

"Yeah."

Booth ruffles Parker's hair good-naturedly and smiles. Yeah, he's gonna be okay. "Sure we can."

***

The next day is Saturday, but Brennan is working anyway. With the pregnancy, she's convinced she needs to work as much as possible to make up for the time she'll lose when she has the baby. In reality, she's always worked this much—she's just never had an excuse.

Booth raps lightly on her office door, and Brennan is surprised to see him toting his son along. Parker is looking down at his feet shyly, holding tightly to the fresh pizza he's carrying.

Booth leans against the doorjamb and smiles his charm smile. "Somebody wanted to see you."

"What's up, Parker?" she asks, trying not to sound nervous. Booth meets her eyes and offers a silent reassurance. He wouldn't bring Parker here if this was going to go badly. Right?

Father and son move into the office and sit on the couch as Brennan moves around her desk to perch on its edge. She really does have a little baby bump working there.

"My dad say's your gonna have a baby."

"That's…true."

"And that the baby is gonna be my little brother or sister."

"Are you okay with that?" she asks softly. Somehow, Parker's acceptance of this as an idea is strangely important to her. It feels irrational, but she doesn't fight it. She knows how important big brothers are.

"I guess so," he says, feigning disinterest.

Brennan smiles in relief. "You know, part of the reason why I wanted your father to be _my_ baby's father is because he's such a good father to you."

Booth smiles, even as the sentiment rolls right off Parker.

"So are you gonna marry my dad now?"

"Parker!" Booth jumps. _Please don't push it with her_, he thinks. He'd never _dream_ of using that word with Brennan, yet there's Parker, using it like it's no big deal.

Brennan looks uncomfortable, but she just pushes her hair behind her ear and says, "It's okay." It's not like Parker's the first one to ask. Her father had some _very_ choice things to say about the matter.

Suddenly, Booth is quite interested to hear her response.

"No, Parker. I'm not."

And he _knew_. He _knew_ that would be her answer. But that doesn't mean it doesn't sting like a son of a bitch.

"But we _are_ going to be this baby's mother and father. We're going to take care of it and _you_ and we're going to be part of each other's lives for a very, very long time."

"Like…a family?" Parker asks. For as much as Booth and Rebecca have tried to instill the idea of _family_ into their son, he knows it's got to be rough having two single parents and no siblings. Most of his friends have "traditional" families—mom, dad, kids, dog. Booth wonders if Parker feels a desire to be part of a family like that. Booth wonders if _he_ feels a desire to be part of a family like that.

Brennan thinks for a moment for the right thing to say. "Yeah. There's more than one kind of family, Parker."

He thinks for a minute and then smiles. For the first time since last night, Parker seems visibly relaxed. He surprises Brennan by running up and hugging her. She puts a hand between his shoulder blades as she looks over Parker's head to his father, who is just _smiling_.

It's not so bad, really.

Parker looks up at her with the same grin on his face, and he says, "Oh, and can you make me a brother?"

Brennan laughs. "Well it doesn't really work—" she looks down at the boy, whose face has contorted again into confusion. "I will…try my best."

Parker does a fist-pump, but Booth interrupts him. "No no no! Don't do that! We have to have a _girl_!"

Brennan rolls her eyes. As if she actually could _try_ to assign a sex to the baby. Its chromosomal material has been definite for weeks; the fetus is decidedly one or the other by now.

"Eww! Girls are no fun!"

Booth laughs and locks his eyes with Brennan's. "Yeah, you say that now."


	3. May 2009: Morning Sickness

**Title**: "A Little Light Shines"  
**Author**: Caroline  
**Pairing**: Booth/Brennan  
**Spoilers**: Speculation on a speculation, really, of the season four finale.  
**Summary**: "The joys of parents are secret, and so are their griefs and fears: they cannot utter the one, nor will they utter the other." – Sir Francis Bacon  
**Rating**: T

Notes: Here's chapter three!

***

The room is positively silent.

Awkward glances are exchanged between all three occupants, as the clock ticks down the hour. The tension is thick, and it appears that no one is willing to break it by speaking.

Finally, after literally four minutes of a three-way staring contest, the silence is shattered—

"Okay, seriously, what the hell's going on here?"

Booth and Brennan both take deep breaths, but not necessarily in anticipation of confessing. Upon seeing each other's intake of breath, they simultaneously nod at each other and say, "You go."

"No, you go."

"Go ahead," she says, as he mutters a "You first."

Sweets looks back and forth between the partners expectantly. Neither ventures further into the conversation. "Is everything okay, Agent Booth?"

Booth laughs nervously. "Yeah, Sweets, everything's fine."

"'Cause I'm sensing some serious tension."

"We're fine," Brennan says with a casual shrug, all but confirming to Sweets that, in actuality, they are decidedly _not_ fine. She's a terrible liar.

"You two have been weird for weeks—the stuttering, the silence, you'll barely make eye contact with each other!"

Almost as if to prove Sweets's point, Booth and Brennan look to each other, then divert their eyes the moment they meet.

"See! Right there! Frankly, it's making me uncomfortable."

Booth is incredulous. "_We're_ making _you_ uncomfortable? You ever think maybe we're feeling uncomfortable because of you?"

"Two years ago, maybe. But not now. Why? Am I bothering you?"

"No more than usual."

"So nothing about our relationship has changed in the last three weeks?"

"No."

"Then what about _your_ relationship has changed in the last three weeks?"

"You're being irrational, Sweets," Brennan interjects. "That question is based on supposition and conjecture. Just because you perceive that something is different about us doesn't mean that there's been some kind of dramatic occurrence."

In reality, there've been at least four dramatic occurrences in the last month.

For starters, they slept together. That was dramatic, to say the least. And then yesterday, she found out she was pregnant. She can't get that image of Booth out of her brain—turning that stick over and over in his fingers, looking back at her with this bizarre mixture of emotions she couldn't quite identify. His face had contorted into several different expressions before settling on a soft smile.

But it was early. They still hadn't figured out how they felt about the pregnancy. They still hadn't figured out how they felt about the _sex_. So they definitely weren't ready to bring _Sweets_ of all people into this mess.

"So you're telling me there's nothing out of the ordinary going on between the two of you?"

"No," Booth answers definitively, in the same instant that Brennan asserts, "Yes."

More stuttering erupts as the partners talk over each other before Brennan raises a hand to silence Booth and says, "Yes, we're telling you that, no, there's nothing unusual in our partnership."

"All right. You can go."

Booth jumps out of his seat and hurries out the door. Brennan trails behind him, smiling awkwardly once more at Sweets before shutting the door behind her.

Calling after them, Sweets hollers, "Come back when you're ready to tell me the truth!"

***

The truth reveals itself to Sweets three days later.

Called to the Jeffersonian to collaborate with the forensics team, Sweets is surprised upon his late arrival to find the others still waiting to start, Booth and Brennan nowhere in sight.

"Where are Agent Booth and Dr. Brennan?" Sweets asks, as Angela swipes him up onto the platform.

Dryly, Angela replies, "Fighting in her office."

"Fighting?" Sweets is surprised.

"Yeah. I thought I had issues, but those two—"

Sweets starts to head in the direction of Brennan's office, before Angela tries to stop him. "Sweets, you probably should stay out of there."

In his no-nonsense Big Kid voice, Sweets insists, "I'm their therapist, Angela."

Angela throws up her hands in defeat and heads back to the platform.

As he nears Brennan's office door, he is surprised to hear not arguing, but _retching_. He slows his pace as he turns the corner. When he spots the partners, their backs to him, their attitude toward each other is entirely different than they were in his office the other day.

She's sitting in her desk chair, hunched over her garbage can, vomiting. _Gross_. Booth is right behind her, one hand holding her hair away from her face while the other rubs her back gently.

After choking up what seems like an inordinate amount of vomit for such a slender person, Brennan wipes her forehead and leans back in her chair.

"I'm gonna go get you some water," Booth murmurs, and Sweets spins around quickly, terrified of being noticed.

"No! Don't!" Brennan replies, and Sweets turns back slowly, noticing how Brennan grasps for him. Booth settles himself on the corner of her desk, returning his left hand to her back. With his right, he smoothes her bangs, matted with sweat, off of her forehead. There's a tenderness to his touch that Sweets has never observed before.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine, I just… I'm not enjoying this very much," she says, hanging her head.

"I know. Just keep your eye on the prize, Bones," Booth says with a smile.

"I don't know what that means."

"It means when you hold that little baby in your arms, you'll forget all the bad stuff."

Sweets gasps. _Whoa_.

"I don't do that."

"Then you won't forget it, but you'll know it was worth it."

She groans and sits upright. For the first time, Sweets can see her face, and she looks _terrible_. But Booth—he just smiles at her. He reaches for a paper clip on the desk and secures her bangs with it.

She laughs, barely.

"There ya go, Bones. You look beautiful."

Realization, followed by fear, crosses her face, and she lunges for the garbage can.

Sweets decides to leave, but his mind is _racing_. This has to be _killing_ Booth, he thinks—the thought of Dr. Brennan having another man's baby. Is she in a relationship? Was this an accident? Does she _know_ who the father is? Does _Booth_?

This changes everything.

***

Sweets decides at their next session to just go ahead and level with them.

"Dr. Brennan, you're pregnant."

Booth moves to respond, probably indignantly, but Brennan stops him by saying, simply, "Yes."

Sweets's face suddenly displays a boyish grin. "Congratulations!"

Her lips quirk upward slightly, but she doesn't betray much. "Thank you."

Booth, who's been looking rather confused for the last few moments, asks, "Wait—how did you know?"

Fear flashes on Sweets's face for a second. "Observation."

"It's really none of your business."

"Dr. Brennan, your pregnancy appears to be strongly affecting your relationship with Agent Booth."

She thinks for a moment before responding. "Things are different between us, yes."

Booth and Brennan both shift uncomfortably in their seats.

"And why do you think that is?"

Sweets speculates that it's because she's now constantly privy to two very strong sides of Seeley Booth's character: a protective instinct and a tendency toward jealousy. Sweets has also noted that these two traits are even more predominant when applied to Booth's relationship with Dr. Brennan, which means that in a heightened situation such as this one, who knows what could happen.

"We've had to reevaluate our friendship to accommodate for the new variables associated with having a child."

"Such as…?"

Booth interrupts the line of questioning, as it seems to be getting into dangerous territory. "You know what, Sweets? Why don't you leave her alone?"

_There's the protective instinct_. Sweets decides to try and dial up the other part.

"Agent Booth, how do _you_ feel Dr. Brennan's pregnancy affects your relationship?"

Brennan positions herself to face him more, curious about his answers. He adjusts his body to try and hide his obvious discomfort, but to no avail.

"I don't know, Sweets. It's going to be a challenge, but I'm also very happy."

"You're happy?" she asks, sounding perhaps a little more incredulous than she meant to.

Once again, Booth is surprised to find that she has such a poor grasp on his feelings. "Bones, of _course_ I'm happy. You know, I'm _scared_, but I'm definitely happy."

Sweets is confused.

They're both using an odd turn of phrase to describe these emotions. It's not _I'm happy for you_, it's _I'm happy_.

"So what are the challenges you see so far?"

"I'm…not answering that," Booth responds, shaking his head.

"Booth is uncomfortable with the idea of having another child out of wedlock— "

"Bones!"

Sweets erupts in shock and lurches forward in his seat. "_Mega-whoa_."

"What? We should probably talk about it eventually. You're disinclined to engage with me because you fear that the same thing that happened with Rebecca will happen with me and I don't think that's fair—"

"Nice going, Bones. He didn't know, you know—"

"What?"

"_Booth_ is the… You're having a… _Whoa_."

"Oh! Yes. Booth is the father."

"How did that…happen?"

Booth smirks. "The usual way, Sweets. Didn't your mommy ever tell you where babies come from?"

"You two are—involved? Sexually?"

"We _were_ involved," Brennan clarifies. "Once."

"That's all it took," Booth says, turning on his macho persona. "My guys—they get the job done."

She turns to face him head-on now, suddenly on the defense. "Are you proud of yourself now? Because last time we had this conversation, we both agreed this was an accident."

"It _was_. But there are worse kinds of accidents."

"I would think that your traditional values and previous experiences with unwanted pregnancy would dictate that this _is_ the worst kind of accident."

"Unwanted? You're the one who came to _me_ wanting to have a baby!"

"And you're the one who kept saying no!"

"Because I didn't want it to happen like _this_."

"So this is my fault, then? Because you and _your guys_ were definitely there."

"No—don't put words in my mouth."

"Don't point your fingers at me!"

He backs down, searching for a different approach.

"Bones, listen to me. This pregnancy is _not_ unwanted. This baby is _not_ unwanted. Are the circumstances ideal? No. But I _want_ this baby as much as you wanted to get pregnant. Do you remember how much you wanted that? You remember what you _did_ for that?"

She hesitates for a moment and says, softly, "Yes."

"That's how much I want this baby."

"Okay."

They watch each other for a second, Sweets looking on in utter disbelief. Then, at the same moment, they jump out of their chairs.

"Let's go, Bones."

"Thanks, Sweets!" she calls, as she reaches down for her purse.

Sweets remains seated, still too flabbergasted to move. "When did this happen? What are you going to do about it? _What did you do to get pregnant?_"

"Good_bye_, Sweets," Booth says, ushering Brennan out of the room.

The door closes quickly behind them, leaving Sweets alone in his office, once again feeling slightly ditched.

He takes a deep breath and exhales sharply. He runs his fingers through his short hair in frustration, as he contemplates the implications of Dr. Brennan's confession.

"This changes _everything_."


	4. November 2009: Nesting

**Title**: "A Little Light Shines"  
**Author**: Caroline  
**Pairing**: Booth/Brennan  
**Spoilers**: Speculation on a speculation, really, of the season four finale.  
**Summary**: "The joys of parents are secret, and so are their griefs and fears: they cannot utter the one, nor will they utter the other." – Sir Francis Bacon  
**Rating**: T  
**Notes**: Here's chapter four!

***

With twelve weeks to go, Brennan's nesting instinct begins to kick into overdrive.

On a Thursday night in November, Booth watches her from the couch as she scrubs the baseboards with a damp cloth. It's almost midnight, and she hasn't stopped moving since she got home from work, try as he might to get her to relax.

"Bones, come on. It's clean."

"This is disgusting," she says, holding up the dusty rag as proof. He thinks the baseboards in his apartment are probably a _lot_ dirtier.

"I promise you I'll finish them if you just come sit down."

"You won't do it right."

"Then why don't you take a break? It's really late, and you need to sleep."

"Booth, do you have any idea how much I have left to do before the baby comes?"

"You're doing _great_ on time."

"No, I'm not! Every day, my list gets longer, and every day, it gets harder and harder, because, if you haven't noticed, I'm getting bigger and bigger."

It's true. When he picks her up every morning, he can swear she's grown overnight. Her gait has changed to accommodate the baby, and her walk is more of a waddle at this point. She claims she can't see her own toes.

"You've gotta let me help you, Bones. Please just go to sleep and let me finish dusting. Or we can call someone and have the apartment cleaned."

She looks at him like he's the most ridiculous human on the planet.

"Anthropologically, the nesting instinct is one of the most important phases of pregnancy. In several species, nesting facilitates a bond between mother and child and helps the mother to feel confident about providing a safe and comfortable environment for her baby. You can't interfere with that by bringing a _stranger_ into my home--that goes against everything I'm feeling right now."

"I'm sorry," he says, earnestly. "I didn't mean to upset you." He approaches her cautiously, laying a hand on her shoulder to still her frantic movement. "Would it go against everything you're feeling if I finish the living room tonight and we leave the rest of the apartment for another day?"

She thinks for a moment before reaching out for help standing. "I guess that would be a suitable compromise," she says, and he takes her hands in his, trying to support as much of her weight as possible to get her up on her feet.

She wobbles a little and he grabs her, moving one hand under her arm and around her back to steady her. "Hey, there," he says, catching her eyes. "You okay?"

"I'm okay."

"You gotta take it easy, Bones. I don't want to interfere with your instincts, but the most important thing is keeping you and the baby healthy. You can't work all day and then come home and scrub the apartment. You need sleep. Okay?"

She slumps against him in defeat and relief. "I'm so tired, Booth."

"I know you are," he says, pulling her closer, turning his steadying stance into a hug. He quickly moves into typical guy hug formation--one hand low on her back, pulling her into him, the other cradling her head, stroking her hair. "You're gonna be such a good mom."

She pulls back far enough to look at him and asks, "Do you mean that?"

He scoffs. "Are you kidding? Of course I mean that! You're gonna be awesome."

She doesn't ask him to qualify his statement, doesn't ask for proof or reasons or logic. She merely says, "Thanks, Booth."

"Now let's get you to bed, okay?"

She sighs, no longer interested in putting up a fight. "Okay."

He helps her ready for bed, averting his eyes long enough for her to pull on pajamas. She collapses into the bed, rolling onto her side and snuggling into her pillow. He tosses her dirty laundry into the hamper, puts her kicked-off shoes back in the closet, and sits beside her on the bed. Pulling the comforter away from her body for a second, he lays a gentle hand on her belly and whispers, "Good night, baby girl. See you tomorrow." He tucks the blankets back around Brennan and kisses her cheek. Her eyelids have already closed and she's practically out already.

"Night, Bones."

She grunts something in response, and he laughs softly before standing up and leaving the room, flicking off the light switch as he goes.

As he stands in the doorway, he feels like he's just been punched in the stomach. It _sucks_, leaving her every night. Leaving them both. There's a protective instinct he's feeling that tells him not to leave them. Brennan has always been able to fend for herself, but she's a pretty slow mover these days, and it makes him crazy to think about something happening in the night. And he hates the thought of her needing something in the middle of the night and him not being there to get it for her. Sure, it's one of the clichés of impending fatherhood, but Booth feels it's a man's job to cater to the whims of a pregnant woman, particularly when you contributed to her condition.

So Booth does what any sensible father would do.

He just doesn't leave.

He cleans the baseboards in the living room until he's sure they'll pass her inspection. Then he turns to the refrigerator. Changes the batteries in the smoke detectors. Tightens the hinges on the cabinets. Fixes the drip on the bathroom sink. At two in the morning, he tiptoes into the nursery and sits down in the rocking chair. The quilt his mom made is thrown over the back, and he pulls it over his shoulders. Somehow it smells mostly like Brennan's house, but also somehow like baby. He looks around the little room, imagining what it'll be like when they bring their baby home.

To Bones's home.

Will she want him to stay at night to get up with the baby? Or will he leave, like he should have tonight, his heart on one side of the door and his body on the other? Will he go, every night, away from the woman he loves and their _child_, saying good nights and heading back, alone, to his own apartment? It breaks his heart to think about it.

God, if he can't bring himself to leave Brennan _now_, what's it going to be like when she's sitting here, holding their daughter in her arms, rocking her to sleep? He feels like he's on this fence between his worst nightmare and his wildest fantasy.

_Bones_ is pregnant with _Booth's_ baby.

It's pretty insane.

And so while there's a huge part of him that's doing everything to keep her as close as possible, for fear of losing them both, there's another part that doesn't want to get too close. Because realistically, this is Temperance Brennan, and she's not going to let him get _that_ close. He figures he's probably reached the pinnacle of closeness. It's great, and this is by far the closest relationship he's ever had, but there's that last level of intimacy that she won't let him into. It's not just the fact that they don't have sex--although that _is_ part of it--it's that she won't tell him she loves him. She won't call them a family. She won't let him comfort her beyond a hug and a few kind words. She won't let him love her the way he wants to.

So there are options here.

He can keep pushing, taking every opportunity she offers to make their relationship progress. He can insinuate himself into her life, into her apartment, even moreso than he already has, to the point where they'll be together in every sense of the word except the one that really matters.

Or he can step back--_compartmentalize_, she'd call it. Maintain his role as Dr. Brennan's professional partner and, separately, as the father of her child. Stop asking for more, stop hoping for more. Let her go.

It's an impossible choice, and he almost makes it when she appears in the doorway, tank top riding up above her bump, hair curly and crazy.

"You look good there," she says.

He yawns in the darkness. "Thanks."

"What are you still doing here?"

"I did some stuff around the apartment. Got to thinking."

"What about?"

"'Bout you. And the little person who's gonna live in this room."

"It's going to be pretty great, huh?" she says with a tired smile.

She really thinks it will be great. Booth is the one person she trusts more than anyone else in the world. Maybe the only person she's ever trusted. As she takes on this new experience, this hugely significant experience, she can't imagine it happening with anyone _but_ Booth. The life they've built together is untraditional, but solid, she thinks. Having a child is an extension of the affection, trust, and respect they have for each other, a physical manifestation of their unique partnership.

He doesn't answer, he just runs his fingers along the threads of the quilt, tracing the outlines of the little bees his mother embroidered. (Seeing as "B" would be at least two of the baby's initials, his mom had found it an appropriate theme.)

"You know I couldn't do this without you," she says, coming up beside him and touching the other corner of the blanket. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"I know, Bones," he says softly.

He shifts a little to make room for her, and although the chair is decidedly not big enough for the two of them, she squeezes in somehow.

"Are you scared?" she asks, barely above a whisper.

He's terrified. Terrified of this ending, of being left with nothing. Of finding out that everything _doesn't_ just eventually happen, that he'll never get a second chance to demonstrate his love for her. That he'll fail as a father, as a man, when it comes to his relationship with his daughter's mother.

"No," he says, shaking his head. "Are you?"

She meets his eyes and nods.

"What if I'm not good enough? I'm not good at emotions and feelings, I'm too--"

"Too what?" he asks, running his hand along her arm.

"Too cold."

She's ashamed to admit her fear, and he's heartbroken that she felt it in the first place. In the soft quiet of the moonlit nursery, their faces show all of these emotions.

"You are _not_ cold," he says, resolutely.

Her gaze doesn't change, keeping her eyes locked on his. "Will you move in with me?" she asks, and he's totally taken aback.

"Bones, I--"

As ever, she doesn't let him explain his reaction before qualifying, "Just to take care of the baby."

And that's it, isn't it?

She wants him here to help with the baby, not to help _her_. This is all they'll ever be.

He smiles, lays a hand on hers and says, "Bones…no."

He watches as her walls build up, and he quietly tries to explain his choice. "Hey, listen, I have to think about Parker, too. Where would he sleep? Where would _I _sleep? My back can only take sleeping in the rocking chair so many times. You understand, right?"

"Yes, of course," she says, tentatively.

"But, Bones, I'll be here whenever you want me to be here. I'll sleep on your couch and take turns getting up when she cries. I'll sit in this very chair and rock her back to sleep. But I'm going to keep my own house."

"I understand," she says, more assured that before.

"In fact, I better be heading home pretty soon."

He tries to extricate himself from the chair, but is thwarted not only by the logistics of the built-for-one rocker but by Brennan, who takes his hand to stop him from getting up.

He stops wiggling and faces her. There's an emotion behind her eyes he's only ever seen once before, and it got him in a whole lot of trouble.

She leans in first, but he doesn't fight it, kissing her back with passion and adoration. She smiles, and wraps her arms around his neck, feeling suddenly safe and confident and so, so loved. His strong, manly hands roam up and down her back, and she feels, momentarily, like _this_ is what it's supposed to be like. This is how a man, a real partner, is supposed to make a woman feel. This is how a mother is supposed to feel about her child's father. This is what life is supposed to be like.

And then it's confusing.

Because it's _Booth_, and he _wants _things. He wants a lot of things, more than she wants, or at least more than she wants right now. Despite what they obviously feel for each other, they want different things. And she has a very real fear of getting caught in the undertow of being romanced by Seeley Booth. Because she knows that somewhere down the line, it'll come down to their differences, and either one of them is going to lose a piece of themselves or this will be over. And isn't it better for their daughter that they just stick with the good thing they've got going? Because the just-partners thing is _really_ good.

But then he's running his fingers through her hair and kissing her neck and whispering nonsense into her ear, and she's slipping her hands under his shirt and up his bare chest underneath.

And before it goes any further, before any clothes actually come off, he stops. And looks at her. And asks, "Bones, is this really what you want?"

"No," she blurts out. "Yes. I don't know."

He smiles sadly and brushes her hair away from her face. "Me either."

He kisses her on the lips one last, lingering time, and when he pulls back, her lips follow his a few millimeters, until they split apart with a soft, wet sound. He manages to get himself out of the chair and looks down at her.

"We'll figure it out," she says, and he has no idea to what she's referring, but her tone is hopeful and that makes him less terrified.

"Night, Bones," he says. "Pick you up at seven."

And then he's gone.

They spend the next four hours apart, and then another nineteen together. Then six hours apart and twenty-five together. Those few short hours that they spend at their respective apartments, not even enough to get a full night's sleep, are what separate them from accepting what they are to each other. As her due date gets closer and closer, there's a pressure building between them. The impending arrival of their baby brings a sense of urgency to defining their relationship, to setting boundaries or destroying them, to moving forward or letting go.

And that night, Brennan brings the bee quilt back into her bed and wonders which side of the line she's on.


	5. October 2009: Baby Names

Title: "A Little Light Shines"  
Author: Caroline  
Pairing: Booth/Brennan  
Spoilers: Speculation on a speculation, really, on the season four finale.  
Summary: _"__The joys of parents are secret, and so are their griefs and fears: they cannot utter the one, nor will they utter the other." – Sir Francis Bacon  
_Rating: T  
Notes: Thank you to Larissa for the super-quick beta--it was much appreciated! And thanks as always to Mae and Leigh, who are just as excited for this development as I am--and who contribute heartily to the speculation. On with Chapter Five!

***

Brennan has developed a serious affinity for the quilt Booth's mom made. It's embroidered with dozens of little bees, because, as Mrs. Booth pointed out, the baby's initials will be at least two-thirds Bs. (Whether she'll be Booth Brennan or Brennan Booth or some kind of hyphenate has yet to be determined.)

At first, Brennan is skeptical about the bees. A bee sting could be incredibly harmful to a baby; there's nothing cute about poisonous insects injecting her child with venom. But when Booth adopts the bee thing, purchasing little bee-themed knickknacks for the nursery, Brennan knows she's fighting a losing battle.

He shows up at her apartment on a Thursday evening, armed with food and a huge smile.

He sets the takeout on the table and greets her with a kiss on the cheek and an affectionate pat on her belly. "How's the little bee today?" he asks.

"Active. And don't call her the bee."

"That reminds me--look what I got!" he exclaims, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a pair of tiny white frilly socks, embellished with little yellow bees. "Look how tiny they are!"

It is amazing. She's started to accrue a few items of baby clothing, and even though she knows the anatomy of infants, there's still something awe-inspiring about the idea of this miniscule piece of fabric fitting on someone's foot.

And it's also pretty great to see him so engaged. She wonders what struck him today that made him drive all the way to Arlington to check out the sock selection at Baby Gap.

He smiles broadly when she hands them back. "I'm gonna go put these in Bee's dresser."

She groans. "Don't call her Bee!"

He spins on his heel and pockets the socks. "Great, then let's sit down and pick a name."

"What?"

"Bones, you gotta let me call her something. It might work for you, but 'the fetus' really isn't cutting it for me."

"Booth, choosing a name for the baby is premature."

"Why? Lots of people name their babies before they're born."

"Names have incredible anthropological significance."

"So?"

"So it's unwise to name our child before her birth, before we can get an idea of her appearance and personality. Her name will affect the person she becomes, how she interacts within the society…"

"We can't even narrow it down a little?"

"Isn't it best to keep all of our options open?"

"You're saying that you would consider naming our baby _anything_? No limits?"

"Well, no, not _anything_. We have to take the social structure into account. Something too common and she may have trouble establishing her own identity; something too rare and we risk her being exposed to teasing or other social discomforts…"

Before she can continue her anthropological dissertation on baby names, he takes her hand and tugs her to the couch. She plops down, giving him a look that tells him she'll tolerate this for a few minutes. He smiles widely when he says, "I like _Anna_."

"Booth--"

"Seriously. This baby's inside of you--you have to have some conception of her personality at this point. What's she like? Is she going to be mellow or hyper or serious or funny?"

"There is _absolutely_ no way of knowing that."

"I'm saying trust your instinct. What is she like, Bones? Is she an Anna or a Charlotte?"

Brennan thinks for a minute, actually contemplating his inference. She rubs a hand over her belly and responds, thoughtfully, "I think she's more of a Fiona, actually."

Booth's face slacks. "Are you joking?"

"No!"

He sits speechless for a second, mouth open.

"What!?"

"Bones, _Fiona_s are little red-haired girls with glasses and freckles!"

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing! But our baby's not going to look like that!"

She groans in frustration. "Booth! That's precisely why I want to wait to name the baby until after it's born!" Brennan moves to stand, but Booth keeps her in her place. It's not hard considering her shifting center of gravity.

"Come on, Bones! You're a scientist! My genetic material. Your genetic material. Picture our baby in your mind--"

"The genetic possibilities inherent in the development of a human genome are practically infinite."

"But she'll probably have brown hair, right?"

"Most likely, yes."

"Okay, so imagine that little girl--half you, half me. Hopefully more like seventy-five percent you, twenty-five percent me."

She looks into the distance and he smiles. "You got it?"

"I think so."

"Okay, what's her name?"

"I don't know. Sophia?"

He claps his hands. "Sophie!"

"No."

"What no?"

"No _Sophie_."

"Just _Sophia_?"

"Yes."

"Bones, that's pretty, but she needs a good nickname."

"Why would we give our daughter a name she's not even going to use?"

"Because nicknames are a way of creating connections. Somebody calls you by a nickname--that's special. There's a closeness there, familiarity. And we're gonna know this baby better than anyone else. We need to be able to call her something _special_, something that nobody else gets to call her. You of all people should know that."

"Because you forced one on me?"

He pulls away, surprised. "You think I forced it on you?"

"_Yes_. How many times did I tell you not to call me Bones?"

"A million, but--"

"You forced it on me."

He sits back and contemplates for a second. "Do you not want me to call you Bones?"

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "What else would you call me?"

"I don't know. Tempe?"

They both curl their faces up in disapproval and she laughs. "It's okay, Booth. I think it's stuck."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't hate it anymore."

"Is that because it's a constant reminder of our _closeness_?" he asks, smiling and pulling her closer to him for emphasis.

"I think my abdomen is a good enough reminder of our closeness."

He laughs. "That's a good one, Bones."

"Do you like Carter?" she asks, tentatively.

"For a girl?"

"It's becoming increasingly acceptable to give female children surnames or traditionally masculine names. Avery, which has most commonly been used for male children, is now in the top fifty names for girls, as are Peyton and Riley."

"Eh, I'm not crazy about it."

She throws her head back and sighs. "Let's just wait."

"Until she's here and needing a name and we can't even narrow it down to _traditionally male or female names_? I don't think so."

"Well, where's your brilliant baby name?"

He thinks for a second and asks, "What about Grace?"

She smiles softly and looks down at her belly. For the first time during this process, she really thinks about the baby in there and says, "That's kind of pretty."

"Temperance and Grace," he says, putting a hand on top of her belly.

She pouts, and her face crumbles into tears. Though she frantically tries to stop herself from breaking down, she can't help the tears that are a product of his sweet suggestion.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she says. "It's just that the placenta is producing progesterone and estrogen at an incredibly high level right now, and it's preventing me from controlling my emotions."

"It's okay," he says, reaching for the box of Kleenex. As she gets her mood swing under control, he touches her belly again and asks, "So, you like that?"

"Yeah, I do. I'm not ready to commit to anything, though."

"It sounds good, though, right? Little Gracie."

"Booth, the general purpose of a nickname is to shorten the name to a more casual form. Calling a child _Gracie_ merely extends the given name from one to two syllables. It's illogical."

"Yeah, maybe, but Grace Booth is kind of choppy, don't you think?"

Her eyes open wide and she shakes her head. "Who said anything about giving her _your_ last name?"

***

Five years and four months later, a little boy gets in trouble for teasing his classmate. At recess, he does it again, but the teacher doesn't intervene. She doesn't have time. The girl pushes the boy down into the dirt--hard. She could explain how it makes her feel when he teases her about her name, how she doesn't like anyone but her daddy calling her by her special nickname, but she doesn't. She's got the words; she just prefers not to use them. Instead, she's direct. "Don't call me Bee," she says, and storms off the playground.


	6. May 2009: Heartbeat

Title: "A Little Light Shines"  
Author: Caroline  
Pairing: Booth/Brennan  
Spoilers: Speculation on a speculation, really, on the season four finale.  
Summary: _"The joys of parents are secret, and so are their griefs and fears: they cannot utter the one, nor will they utter the other." - Sir Francis Bacon  
_Rating: T  
Notes: Thank you to **larissafae** for another very helpful beta. And, as always, to Mae and Leigh, who send me text messages like, "Picturing Booth carrying Bee in a baby bjorn." Here's chapter six!

***

He sticks his head into her office, slapping a hand against the doorjamb. "Hey, Bones, you done with that paperwork yet?"

She looks up from her computer like a deer in the headlights; it takes her a moment before she can respond, belatedly, "Yeah. It's right here." Mostly succeeding at sounding casual, Brennan barely makes eye contact with Booth before averting her eyes back to the Excel spreadsheet.

He steps tentatively inside the room, getting exactly as close as he needs to before bending slightly to retrieve the file. "Thanks."

"No problem."

There are a few seconds of silence as they both wonder what to say. Booth rocks gently on his heels, while Brennan's eyes dart across the screen, paying zero attention to the data before her as she wills Booth to leave the room.

Yesterday, she told him she's pregnant. Today, they had their most awkward session with Sweets since they started going to therapy almost two years ago.

Neither of them knows how to handle this situation.

Because now, they _know_.

Four years with an idea in the back of their brains and now they _know_. He knows what that tantalizing skin on her neck tastes like. She knows the dark, dark shade of brown his eyes get right as their bodies join together. He knows what her fingers feel like, nails dragging lightly across his naked back.

The sex had been incredible--equally intimate and explosive, passionate and tender. In a moment, one truly perfect moment where nothing else existed but their unyielding desire and love for one another, they had literally created _life_.

But making love with Booth came with strings.

He'd asked her to let her guard down, begged her to just _be_ with him for one night, and she had, willingly.

And now she knew.

Aside from the fact that it changes everything, it doesn't change anything. Not really. They're still Just Partners, and they're pretending like they don't know anything. Even though there's going to be a baby soon.

She speaks again, awkwardly, after those few moments: "I have an appointment with my gynecologist today."

"Great!" he says, a little more enthusiastically than necessary or intended. "I mean--that's great. Good idea to get checked out, make sure everything's, you know, okay in there."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

"Do you…" she trails off, unsure of how to continue. "…Do you want to come?"

He's surprised. "To your doctor's appointment?"

"Yeah. Depending on the position of the fetus, they may be able to see the heartbeat with a sonogram."

He thinks about it for a second, gets that distant look in his eye like it's setting in again. _Baby. Heartbeat. Bones._

"Yes. Please. I'd love to."

"Really?"

"Bones, please." He points to her belly, "Baby," then to himself, "Father. Of course I'll go."

"Okay."

***

He meets her at the doctor's office right before her appointment is scheduled to start. She's sitting in the waiting room, concentrating on a clipboard.

"Hey, Bones," he says, taking the seat next to her. "I thought this was your regular doctor--why are you filling out forms?"

"Apparently, pregnancy begets substantially more paperwork. Here," she says, releasing a page from the bottom of the small stack. "This one's for you."

He smiles nervously and takes the form. "Whoa!" he says with an anxious laugh.

"What's wrong?"

"I am _not_ filling this out."

"What? Of course you are, Booth. It's a standard medical history. Half of that history got passed down to the fetus, and it's important that the doctor has all of the necessary information."

He lowers his voice. "I'm not telling your lady doctor about my sexual history."

"Doctor-patient confidentiality ensures that your…delicate information is kept in confidence. You shouldn't feel ashamed--"

"I'm not _ashamed_!"

"Then what's your problem?"

A door clicks open loudly and a nurse in pink scrubs calls out, "Temperance Brennan!"

Brennan stands and acknowledges the beckon. "Hi," she says, as she and Booth rise and move toward the nurse.

"Congratulations!" the nurse, whose nametag identifies her as _Elizabeth_, exclaims. "We're just going to weigh you, Temperance, and then we'll get you all set up for your first sonogram--the very first picture of your little baby."

Booth and Brennan are both slightly taken aback by the enthusiasm displayed by the nurse. They share an amused smile as Brennan climbs onto the scale.

After pushing the balances across the scale, the nurse clocks Brennan in at 138. "Very good! Now, you enjoy that number, there, Temperance, 'cause it's going to go up up up in the next nine months!"

Brennan doesn't know how to respond, so she just smiles and steps off the scale.

She leads the pair back to an exam room, where the cheery yellow walls are counterbalanced by the scary-looking stirrups attached to the table.

"Okay, now, there's a gown on the bench, there, just get yourself changed and the doctor will be right with you."

"Thank you," Brennan says, moving into the room.

"Not a problem. And congratulations again, Mr. and Mrs. Brennan."

In the same instant, Booth and Brennan respond with a, "We're not--"

Immediately hastening upon seeing the confused look on Nurse Elizabeth's face (and hearing each other's enthusiasm to correct), neither completes the sentence.

"Never mind," Booth says with a forced smile, and the nurse excuses herself quickly from the room.

Booth figures if he has to correct everyone who assumes they're together for the next eighteen years, he's probably not going to get much else done.

The doctor comes in a few minutes later, after Brennan has changed into the gown, hurried and snapping her gloves on as she barrels through the door.

"So, I hear we're having a baby, Temperance!" Dr. Wilder says.

"Well, technically, _I'm_ having a baby, but, yes, you are correct. I'm pregnant."

"This must be the lucky father."

"Seeley Booth," he responds. He reaches his hand out to shake the doctor's in greeting, but she holds up her gloved hands as evidence of her inability to exchange pleasantries.

Booth already doesn't like her.

"Okay, Temperance, let's get your legs up here in these stirrups and have a look."

Brennan complies, and Booth moves closer to her head, patting her shoulder reassuringly, but awkwardly. Booth attended a few of these appointments with Rebecca, but they were never quite so…intense. Rebecca's doctor was big on explaining things in soft, soothing terms; Brennan's is more clinical, which he imagines is why she chose this physician. Plus, he's _pretty_ sure no one stuck _that_ into Rebecca's _you know_ back in the day.

The doctor moves to examine Brennan's cervix without so much as a warning and Brennan hisses in discomfort. Booth jumps into protection mode.

"Hey, take it easy! You know there's a baby in there."

"Booth, I'm fine."

"She's fine, Mr. Booth. This is perfectly safe," the doctor responds, coldly.

Booth is frustrated. This isn't how this is supposed to go. Coming to the doctor was supposed to be reassuring, validating, _proof_--not Bones wincing with pain as what has to be the world's worst gynecologist shoves a piece of metal into their baby's face.

Finally, the exam is over and Brennan exhales a breath she didn't know she was holding. Booth runs a hand along the length of her arm and asks, "You okay there?"

"Yes, Booth. I'm fine." Her tone is clipped, as if she's irritated by his concern.

And she kind of is. This isn't any different from routine gynecological exams, yet here Booth is, acting like it's The End Of The World.

"Do you want to find another doctor?" he whispers into her ear, and she puts a hand over his face to push him away from her.

"You can lean back now, Temperance."

She does, and the doctor readies the ultrasound equipment, squeezing the conductive jelly onto Brennan's abdomen. Again, she winces and Booth reacts. Brennan throws up her hands.

"Do you need to go wait outside, Booth? It's _cold_. She's not hurting _me_, she's not hurting the _fetus_, but you're creating a stressful environment and I'd appreciate it if you'd either calm yourself or step outside."

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You didn't even want me here to begin with."

"Oh, please. I agreed to have a baby with you--"

"You make it sound like it was my idea."

"It was!"

"Uhh, I'm pretty sure I remember you coming to _me_ asking me to give you my _sperm_."

"And I'm pretty sure I remember _you_ coming to me wanting to, and I quote, 'make a baby the old-fashioned way.'"

"Just because I didn't want our baby conceived in a lab somewhere--"

"That's not fair! You're not allowed to decide that you're the better parent before there's even a baby."

"Who said anything about who's the _better parent_?"

"Temperance? Seeley?" the doctor calls, softly, getting their attention. The partners turn their heads to follow her finger, which is pointing toward a black and white screen.

And suddenly, they both feel like pretty terrible parents.

Because on the screen in front of them is a barely-there flicker, not more than thirty pixels, but a flicker nonetheless. Steady and rapid, the flicker represents the very beginnings of what will be their child's heart.

"Oh, my God," Booth murmurs, burying his head in his hands.

He's going to be a father again. Bones is having his baby, _their_ baby.

It's so _real_. There it is, right there in black and white.

It has a heartbeat.

Brennan looks at Booth, who looks about as shaken as she feels inside. "Could you give us a minute, please, Dr. Wilder?"

The physician nods and excuses herself.

"Booth?" Brennan asks softly.

"Yeah?" he responds, from between his knees.

"Are you okay?"

When he hears her nervous tone, he meets her eye, trying as always to reassure her, even when he's not sure he could reassure himself right now.

What's funny is that when he locks eyes with her, he _does_ feel reassured. How could he _not _want to have a baby with this woman?

When she'd first brought up the idea of having a child, he'd been insanely jealous at the prospect of her giving birth to anyone's baby but his own. Now, he's reminded of how lucky he feels to be the man she chose for this special, precious thing.

"Bones, we made a baby."

"Yes. We did."

There are things he knows now.


	7. December 2009: Undercover Operation

_Notes: My favorite anvil of all time--the suburban undercover scenario! Used most famously on The X-Files, copied by Alias, and most recently stolen by Chuck. I'd LOVE to see Booth and Brennan take on this mission, especially if it coincides with her pregnancy. Thanks to larissafae for another awesome beta (two rounds on this one!) and to Mae and Leigh for their continued speculation. (Leigh thinks Sweets would gift B&B with a parenting book at her baby shower. I LOLed.) Here's chapter seven._

***

The suburban house is big, clean, and _new_. The hardwood floors gleam and smell like the tree was cut yesterday. There are bright blue shutters on the windows of the white brick house, and the grass is greener than green.

Seeley Booth arrives home from work, swinging his briefcase and whistling. Striding up the front walk toward the house, he stops dead in his tracks when he sees Brennan waiting for him in the doorway. She pulls the door shut behind her, meeting him on the porch with a happy smile and a kiss.

"Welcome home, sweetheart."

"It's good to _be_ home, beautiful," he replies, then touches her stomach affectionately. "Hello, baby girl! And how was your day?"

Brennan rolls her eyes good-naturedly and tugs him toward the door. "Dinner's on the table."

This is too good to be true, he ponders. There's Bones, _cooking_, greeting him at the door of this beautiful house with a rather saucy kiss, and, oh yeah, glowingly pregnant with his baby. _It's perfect. _Before going into the house, Booth gives himself a hard pinch. He winces.

This is very real.

***

_Three days earlier_

Cullen pulls Booth into his office early on a Tuesday morning for a new assignment. "It's a doozy," he says. Booth isn't nervous until he hears the details of the case.

A suspected bioterrorist has supposedly gone underground. So underground, in fact, that he's married, has a couple of kids, and is living a stereotypical white-collar life.

_Some guys have all the luck_, Booth thinks.

When Cullen suggests that Booth should go undercover as this guy's neighbor, Booth balks. "Why can't you just go grab him and bring him in?"

"Because his operation may be bigger than we thought. Other neighbors may be involved. There's speculation in backchannels that the community is being used by a small but potentially _very_ dangerous terrorist cell as a base camp of sorts."

Booth squints his eyes and shakes his head. "You're telling me that a group of terrorists is operating a sleeper cell out of a subdivision in—" he glances at the case file "—suburban Baltimore?"

"Yes. And the only way we're gonna find out and _get_ these guys is if we run an undercover op."

Booth thumbs through the file for a few more seconds before asking, "Wait—why me? This isn't a homicide."

Cullen, ever the no-nonsense administrator, levels with Booth. "Because we need a family."

It takes about two seconds for Cullen's insinuation to resonate with Booth. And about a millisecond after that for Booth to—

"No. No no no no no no. No."

"Booth—"

"I am not taking Dr. Brennan on any undercover ops right now! She's seven months pregnant, sir! I mean—have you _seen_ her?"

"Look, there is no expectation that she'll need to be involved in the mission spec. All she has to do is perpetuate the lie."

"All due respect, but I don't want to use my partner and my daughter as a _prop_ for a sting operation, sir."

"Agent Booth, I've tasked this mission to you and your partner, who, despite my earlier objections, has been allowed to remain in the field during her pregnancy. She stood right here in my office and told me she wanted to stay in the field. You were there. So the two of you better suit up and get going—the movers arrive at four." Cullen tosses Booth a set of house keys.

"Welcome to the neighborhood, Agent Booth."

***

Brennan, as expected, _loves _the idea. She's always loved undercover missions, and this is no exception. Sure, it's not as _exciting_ as underground fighting in Vegas or knife-throwing in the circus, but it's a chance to immerse herself in an unfamiliar subculture. Missions like these are an anthropologist's fantasy—an opportunity to really experience a situation from the inside, observe members of a society when they don't know they're being observed.

As a woman getting ready to give birth, however, this situation is a little less than thrilling. Her ankles are swollen, her back aches, and she can't see her feet. The idea of being far away from her doctor and her sofa are decidedly unappealing. And as for the part about living out Booth's happy-family fantasy in suburbia? She'd be lying if she said she wasn't curious about the concept, but it also feels like dangerous territory.

What does it mean if they like it?

What does it mean if they hate it?

What does it mean if only _one_ of them hates it?

These are the exact questions they've avoided for seven long months. Now, though, there's bound to be a Serious Conversation.

Booth stops by the lab to tell her the news and present her with a set of rings. He's uncharacteristically awkward, and she can already tell he's not going to be able to compartmentalize this operation. This isn't going to be Booth and Bones's Suburban Adventure.

She takes the fake IDs from him and scoffs. "Clark and Diana Kent?"

"It's Superman and Wonder Woman." She gives him a pity chuckle, to which he responds indignantly, "Come on! That's clever!"

"You think they're going to buy that your name is Clark Kent?"

"Well, your in-laws had a sense of humor, apparently."

"Next time we go undercover, I get to choose the names."

The mood softens when she inspects the rings and moves to put them on. He looks wistfully at her hands as she slides the engagement ring on to her finger with minimal effort. The white gold wedding band takes a little more work; although it seems the FBI found rings that _are_ her size, they didn't take her swollen joints into account. Try as she might, she can't get the band past the proximal interphalangeal joint.

He sidles up beside her and takes her hand softly. In that low Seeley Booth bedroom voice, he says, "Here, let me."

Her instinct is to take her hand away, to not let him make this _operation_ sentimental. She decides instead to humor him. He removes both rings from her finger and pops the wedding band quickly into his mouth, wetting it, before sliding it gently back on, past the stubborn joint. He pushes the engagement ring on right after, then brings the back of her hand to his lips and kisses it. This is going to be a _long_ mission, Brennan thinks, but she can't help but feel awash with that familiar feeling of affection that only Booth can inspire.

Breaking the silence, Booth speaks. "You had 'em in the wrong order there, Bones." He drops her hand and turns back into Agent Booth. "Sorry."

"It's okay, it's just—"

"I know. It's not real."

***

It kind of is, though.

The FBI really outdid themselves this time. The house is immaculate, every detail is just so for Mr. and Mrs. Kent. A Photoshopped wedding picture rests on the mantle, and Brennan can't help but notice how happy they made her look. Booth puts groceries away with a face that makes him look like he's died and gone to heaven. Brennan doesn't even bother to critique his obviously subpar organizational system.

There are three bedrooms upstairs. A master bedroom, an office-slash-guest room, and what is obviously a nursery. There's no explanation as to why the setup crew took such pains to make the house so realistic—it's not as if she's going to be inviting strangers up to the second floor of the house—but she's taken aback by all of the tiny pink knickknacks. She runs a finger over the crib rail and into the little bed, touching the softest-soft linens.

Her other hand goes to her belly, where a very real baby is currently residing.

Yes, this is all very real.

Booth comes up beside her in the nursery, startling her. Together, they look down into the empty crib.

"I told the team it's a girl," he says, reaching into the crib to touch a little cloth dolly.

She wants to slap him and shake him. It's _so_ sweet, what he's doing, but this is not their life. Their daughter will never sleep in this crib. The baby she's carrying isn't a product of this fake marriage—she's part of their _real_ life.

She's so, so angry—until she just decides not to be.

As she watches Booth run his strong, capable hands along the crib rail, she decides to treat this operation as an experiment. She allows herself to accept her role in this drama, to recede into the lie she's been tasked to perpetuate.

She looks up at Booth and allows herself to see him as a husband, as the father of her unborn child.

He looks good.

"Hey, Bones, I know this is weird, but could we maybe just pretend? Just for this one case? Like always?"

She smiles and nods. "Sure." As an afterthought, she adds, with a smirk, "Sweetheart."

***

During the day, he "goes to work," which means scoping out the neighborhood, driving down to DC to check in with base camp, and doing research in his office. Brennan stays at the house, where she's working on her book and keeping everything in order.

She makes breakfast for him the way a suburban housewife would. She wears pearls and refers to the fetus as a baby. As a "she." (The _she_ part is at least scientifically accurate at this point.)

She kisses him, sometimes. When he gets home and right before bedtime. Whenever she thinks a good housewife would. He always kisses back.

"Dave Klein," the suspected bioterrorist, lives in the big house at the end of the street; according to the neighbors, they don't get out much. So when Bill and Donna Johnson, who seem a little suspect to Booth, invite the Kents to a cocktail party on their second night, Booth accepts immediately.

They take a bottle of wine to the party and prepare to observe these families, see if anything seems out of the ordinary. Brennan is wearing a floral print maternity dress that came out of "Diana's" closet, while Booth is wearing khakis and a striped polo; they both take note of each other's uncharacteristic appearance. As they walk up to the door, Booth rings the bell, then stands back to put his right hand on the small of Brennan's back.

Donna Johnson throws open the door with a huge smile plastered to her face. "Clark! Diana! Welcome to Autumn Village! We're so glad you could make it!"

That was way too many exclamation points for Booth _and_ Brennan.

She escorts them through the foyer and into the living room, where three other couples are clustered, each with a glass in hand.

Donna takes the liberty of introducing the Kents to the rest of the group: the Schroeders, the Millers, and the Kleins. Pleasantries are exchanged all around; drinks are offered and refused.

Brennan pats her belly and says, "No, thank you," with a smile; Booth claims he's staying sober for the duration of her pregnancy—if she has to, he has to. (A chorus of _awws_ go through the room, even as Brennan rolls her eyes. Booth had a beer earlier this afternoon.) They do accept sparkling waters, and Bill Johnson takes care to cut a small wedge of lime for each of their glasses.

This whole situation is so freaking odd.

"So, Diana, when are you due?"

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

"How did you meet?"

Booth watches as Brennan good-naturedly fields all of these questions. She's due in February; it's a girl, as yet unnamed; and they met at work.

He's surprised to watch her fall into the persona. He knows it's an act, but some of it is real. That's what's so difficult about this mission. He'll _never_ be able to completely separate himself from her, especially not now.

As the evening progresses, the sexes segregate. When the women begin to migrate toward the kitchen, Brennan shoots a frightened glance toward Booth, who smiles and nods softly in reassurance. She follows the rest of the group.

"So, Diana, you must be the luckiest girl in town," Mrs. Miller exclaims, flashing her super-white teeth.

Brennan chuckles awkwardly. "Why's that?"

"Your _husband_! He seems perfect! I bet he's going to be a great daddy!" Mrs. Schroeder chimes in. (Brennan didn't catch their first names.)

"Oh," she remarks softly, twisting the rings around her fingers. "Yeah, he's pretty great."

"Uh-oh!" Donna says, exaggerating her words. She looks around at the others with a silly mixture of expressions on her face. Brennan can't read her. "Trouble in paradise?"

"No. No, we're fine." Sensing that she's not participating the way the women expected her to, she adapts. "So, we just finished the nursery!"

Meanwhile, Booth is trying to get a different kind of read on the men in the group.

"Diana is just lovely, Clark," Mr. Schroeder says. (His first name is Hal, but he looks more like a Mr. Schroeder.)

Booth smiles and agrees with a nod. "Most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on."

The conversation turns to something a little more vague, as the men discuss their plans for the weekend. From what Booth can gather, Schroeder, Miller, and Klein go golfing every Saturday afternoon—and apparently, Johnson never gets invited.

For a group so insistent on being _neighborly_, that sure seems like a slap in the face.

Booth pretends like he doesn't notice and opts himself in. "Wow, awesome! I haven't golfed in months! Mind if I complete your foursome?"

The three men share slightly panicked glances, which Booth notices and pushes past—"Come on, guys. I'll bring my own clubs."

The neighbors agree hesitantly, and Booth knows he has caught onto something fishy. After a cigar out on the patio and more awkward conversation about how JUST GREAT everything in this neighborhood is, Booth excuses himself to go find his wife.

Finding Brennan in the kitchen, exhausted and leaning awkwardly on the marble island, Booth wraps an arm around her and flashes the charm smile at the other women.

"Ladies, I'm gonna have to steal her away," he says, trying to support as much of her weight as she'll let him take.

Brennan offers a fake smile to the others and agrees. "Sorry, girls. Baby just zaps all my energy."

They react with disappointed understanding, and when Booth gets Brennan outside, she heaves a sigh and says, "Thank you."

"Sleepy?"

"Yes, but, Booth—those _women_."

"What about 'em?"

"They're insufferable. Exhausting. Boring. I mean, their lives here...they don't do anything other than serve their children and their husbands, who may very well be transnational terrorists."

"You don't think they're involved?"

"How could they be? They're not intelligent enough to get themselves out of this situation; what makes you think they have the capacity to conduct this level of bioterrorism?"

He has to laugh, but there's that nagging part of him that wishes she were just a little bit warmer to this idea. He'd never want her to sacrifice her brilliance, her work, or her independent personality, but some of this isn't so bad. He fills her in on the golf trip tomorrow and thanks her for tagging along. The subject is dropped.

When they get home, she gets ready for bed while he checks his email.

"Hey, Bones," he calls. "I think we're onto something here. Cullen says ECHELON picked up chatter indicating there's a deal going down tomorrow near our location."

"You think it's the golf game?" she calls back.

"Yeah, I do. I'm calling in a tac team."

Booth types the email up and closes the laptop, making sure to turn up the volume on his cell before setting it on the nightstand and crawling under the covers.

"You about ready to come to bed, Diana?"

Brennan emerges from the bathroom in pajamas and no makeup, and Booth's breath hitches. _There she is_, he thinks.

She smiles, amused, and heads out of the room. "I'm going to go sleep in the guest room."

"Wait wait wait!" he calls, reaching his arms out toward her in protest.

"Booth, I'm not--"

"I'm not asking that," he chides. "Come here. I want to say goodnight to the baby."

She indulges him with faux reluctance, moving to stand beside the bed as he reaches his fingers toward her belly.

"Goodnight, Little Bee," he says, affectionately. "Daddy loves you very much and he can't wait to see you." He places a very soft kiss on Brennan's belly, then looks up at her from below. With a final pat, he tells the baby, "Let your mommy get a good night's sleep, okay?" He changes his tone to say his goodnight to Brennan.

She kisses his cheek and leaves the room.

_At least we're all under the same roof_, he thinks.

***

The next day, Booth heads to the golf course, decked out in ridiculous golfing gear, while Brennan works on her book at the kitchen table.

She's nervous about Booth, out in the field with a gun strapped to his ankle and an FBI tactical team surrounding his innocuous-to-bystanders golf game. So she's surprised when she hears the doorbell ring, more than a little afraid it's going to be an agent with bad news.

Opening the front door, Brennan is surprised to see not an agent, but three neighborly women, each toting some kind of baked good.

"What a surprise!" Brennan says.

Nancy Klein makes herself the leader of the group. "We just wanted to bring by some _welcome to the neighborhood_ goodies."

"That's very kind, but you really didn't have to," Brennan says, feeling overwhelmed and slightly uncomfortable. This alias feels all wrong with Booth.

"Oh, nonsense, Diana," Mrs. Schroeder says. "Can we bring these inside for you?"

"Of course," Brennan says, ushering all of the women inside, uncomfortable at the idea of all of these strangers in the house.

They follow her into the kitchen, setting their baskets on the island. The baskets are all done up impeccably, the food inside wrapped up in pretty linens and tied closed with ribbon.

The women make awkward small talk for a few moments, mostly discussing their husbands' golf game, their children's school, and this neighborhood's woefully inadequate tennis facilities. Finally, Brennan changes the subject back to their gifts.

She starts unwrapping the first basket to find out what's inside. "I'm not much of a sweets person, but Clark--" She cuts off, opening the first basket to discover not homemade baked goods, but six slices of store bought white bread.

Looking up with confusion, she finds that the women have all taken a step closer to her, essentially preventing her from making it out from behind the island.

Judy Miller speaks first, her voice soft and menacing. "Clark? Are you sure you don't mean _Seeley_?"

***

The FBI tactical team has three unsuspecting golfers in handcuffs.

Booth is confused; these men _seriously_ seem to have no idea what's going on or why they're being arrested. The argyle sweater vest only clouds his judgment _slightly_, he's sure of it.

"Terrorism?" Dave Klein asks, flabbergasted.

"Yeah, buddy. _Terrorism_. Tell me, why did you decide to set up shop in the suburbs? Was it really that convenient or did you just like the irony?"

"Dude, I don't know what you're talking about. You think it was _my_ idea to move to this hellhole? You wanna know about setting up shop, you're going to have to ask Nancy."

"Nancy."

"My wife."

"Your wife."

"Yeah. What the hell, man?"

Realization creeps up on Booth, and he shoves Klein into the back of the car. "_Bones._"

Slamming the car door, Booth barely hears the confused shout from the inside. "What the hell is _bones_?"

***

By the time Booth and the boys charge into the house, Brennan has already turned the tables on the _real_ suburban terrorist cell.

Having spotted Booth's holster lying inconspicuously behind the toaster, Brennan feigns wooziness and leans heavily on the counter. The other women are distracted for a moment, as they look back and forth between Brennan and each other, wondering what to do if this pregnant woman passes out on them. Brennan manages to distract the women long enough to whip the gun out and wave it back and forth between the three.

It's an unsustainable situation, as she can only keep the gun on one woman at a time, but for now, it's going to have to do.

"What about Donna Johnson?" Brennan demands. "Is she in on this, too?"

"No, Dr. Brennan," Mrs. Schroeder explains, sounding more calm than someone with a gun aimed at them should. "She just had the world's worst realtor."

"So there was no deal today," Brennan reasons. "You knew."

"Of course we knew," Nancy Klein spits. "_Clark and Diana Kent? _Come on."

"We're dying to know--" Judy Miller interjects, "--Is it his baby? Or are you even pregnant?"

"Was it an accident?"

"Is he as good in bed as he looks?"

"Shut up!" Brennan shouts. She tries to remain calm, rational, but there's a defensive, protective side of her when it comes to Booth and the baby.

"Touchy!" Mrs. Schroeder surmises, clicking her tongue.

Fed up, Brennan erupts. "Sit down at the table! Now!" She waves the gun erratically, pointing it from Schroeder to Miller to Klein to the table and back again.

"Oh, Dr. Brennan, do you really think you have control of this situation?" Judy Miller asks, advancing on Brennan.

"Yes, I do." Her words may be assertive, but her voice wavers.

"And how's that?"

In that instant, the room fills with people.

Brennan sees the tac team agents swarm the room, but she doesn't lower her weapon until she sees Booth, coming around the corner, face full of fear. When he sees her, his face softens slightly, and he hollers above the noise, "You okay?"

She nods fervently, finally lowering the gun and tossing it onto the counter as the backup agents arrest the three women.

"Booth, it was them all along," she says as she walks toward him.

"I know."

"They knew who we were."

"I know. I came as quickly as I could."

"Where are the husbands?"

"On their way to a holding facility. Claiming they don't know anything. Even if they don't know about the terrorist cell their wives were running--which is a long shot--then I want to know why they changed their identities just to appease the Missus."

"Good. Then let's start packing."

***

Obviously, there's paperwork to fill out and statements to file, but Booth and Brennan do start packing pretty quickly.

They're moving around each other with ease. She's packing up the toiletries from the bathroom sink while he empties the closet behind her. He sorts their clothes--his from hers, theirs from the FBI's--and places the folded items in their respective places.

"I need a break," she says, and flops down on the bed, knocking over some of his piles.

"Bones! You're messing up my system!"

"You had a system?"

"Yes!"

"Sorry."

"It's okay," he says, and returns to folding. He watches her, hands rested on her belly as she stares at the ceiling, and he has to ask, "Would it really be so bad?"

"Your system?"

"No, Bones. _This_. Would it really be so bad?"

She looks around the room, with its impeccable decorations and clothes strewn everywhere, laptop displaying the latest chapter of her book and his email client side-by-side. And she looks at Booth. _Booth_, who folds her laundry and talks to their unborn child with such wonder. Booth, who makes her smile and laugh on the grayest of days. Booth, who has saved her life more times than she can count (though whatever the tally, it got marked up by one today).

Booth, who is her daughter's father.

"Would it really be so different?" He just stares at her, completely perplexed by her response. "Would it really be so different?" she repeats. "Are we less happy than this? Is our baby less real? Is our life less fulfilling?" She quirks her head to the side to ask, "If I was your wife, would you care more about me?"

He doesn't even blink before answering, resolutely, "No."

"You're sure?"

"Bones, of course I'm sure."

"Then let's go _home_, Booth. That's where our life is. _Our_ life."

"Our life," he repeats, reassuring himself.

"Yes. Yours, mine, and, in a little while, hers," she says, pointing to her belly.

"Okay."

"It's better there, right? Anthropologically speaking, the rise of the suburb was founded on the fear of overpopulation in the cities and the inappropriate application of American manifest destiny to corners of this country that just weren't meant to be inhabited. There was a real desire amongst American men returning from World War Two to stake claim to something lasting and tangible, and property became highly in demand. We don't need to look for something lasting and tangible."

"You're right."

"I know."

She smirks and goes back to staring at the ceiling, as he returns to the pile of laundry.

And even though Brennan just shot down the American dream, just flat-out told him that he'll never achieve it, not really, he can't help but feel reassured, ready to keep making it work with her.

Because Brennan never uses words like _lasting_ and _fulfilling_ and _baby_ and _ours_.

But tonight she did, and she was talking about him, and for now, that's all he can really ask for.


	8. April 2009: Conception

**Title**: "A Little Light Shines"  
**Author**: Caroline  
**Pairing**: Booth/Brennan  
**Spoilers**: Now, officially, for the season four finale.  
**Summary**: _"The joys of parents are secret, and so are their griefs and fears: they cannot utter the one, nor will they utter the other." - Sir Francis Bacon__  
_**Rating**: T  
**Notes**: This is a pretty "big-deal" chapter, but I couldn't help myself from writing it. With all the rumors and spoilers floating around (or lack thereof?), I wanted to write my own speculation on how this journey's going to start, and I wanted to do it before somebody else beat me to it! Thanks to Mae, who gave it a look-over, and to Leigh, who agrees that we've all had way too much time to think about this spoiler.

***

In a few brief moments of clarity, speckled across days, weeks of absolute uncertainty, their lives are uprooted, turned on their heads, examined, reassessed, rearranged.

Forever altered.

***

They have a meeting with a person of interest. The woman, Jenny, has a little daughter named Nellie, and as Brennan wiggles her fingers in front of the baby, Booth realizes for the first time how difficult this is going to be. Brennan goes on about how babies resemble their fathers in their first years of life, in order to encourage the males not to abandon their offspring, and Booth wonders if she knows what she's just said.

"So your kid will look like me, at least the first year," he interprets.

"There's a high statistical probability, yes."

And she's sitting there, holding this little baby, and it's the first moment of what will eventually be _millions_ where he realizes that _this_ is both his wildest fantasy and his worst nightmare. With this concept he will become increasingly familiar.

He pictures what their baby will look like . Hopefully with Brennan's delicate but angular face, her sparkling blue eyes, and her little button nose. Hopefully with Brennan's soft smile, wide grin, and tall stature.

He pictures their baby, imagining a little girl who looks just like his Bones and nothing like himself. And not just because he's terrified of seeing his own eyes stare up at him, wondering why he's not her father.

***

If not frozen, sperm is only viable for a few hours after ejaculation.

Knowing that fresh sperm has a higher success rate in terms of conception, Brennan schedules insemination for the same afternoon as his donation appointment. A portion of Booth's sperm will be injected into her uterus today, and the rest will be frozen for future use, if necessary.

She tries not to think too hard about his behavior today. She knows he'll get used to the idea, that eventually he'll see that just because their—her!—child resembles Booth doesn't mean he needs to help her raise him or her.

But then she goes into the room alone, and she realizes for the first time that she is, in fact, alone.

The technician enters and tells her to lay back. The rest is uncomfortable and kind of disgusting, and Brennan notes, more philosophically than usual, that there is literally a part of Booth inside of her, hopefully making their way toward her own gamete, creating something genetically _theirs_.

Fleetingly, she wonders if this is what Booth meant when he talked about human beings sharing space and creating miracles.

***

Two days later, Booth is out of his mind when he suggests, to _no one_, to a fixed spot in the room he keeps staring at, that if he can't be involved with the child, then he doesn't want her to have it.

It's a brief moment of lucidity when they catch each other's eye and she demands to take him to the hospital, caring (slightly) more about getting him to a doctor than about the horrible thing he just said.

She knows it wouldn't really be all that horrible, it's just that they _agreed_.

They had a plan, and his sperm are _inside_ of her now. She could be pregnant at this very moment, and then what would they do?

He passes out in the hallway before she can even get him to the car, and as the paramedics load him onto a stretcher, she stops thinking about conception and starts thinking about Booth.

Something is _seriously_ wrong with him.

***

His eyes flutter open, several hours later. He's still in the ER, waiting on the brain specialist to come down.

She is standing over him as soon as he opens his eyes. Before he can even ask her where he is or what happened to him, he grabs her hand and says, "Bones, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not—"

"Booth, I'm not worried about that right now. I'm only concerned about you getting better."

"I didn't mean it."

She puts her hand over his heart. "It's okay. Booth, I'm not pregnant."

"How do you--?"

"I'm bleeding. I'm not pregnant."

"Oh." He can't identify this emotion as relief or disappointment—and he's not sure what to do with that.

"Listen, there's a neurosurgeon on his way down to see you. They think you might have a...a blood clot in your brain. He's gonna take a look at you and then you're going up for a CT scan, okay?"

He's concerned, reaching his hand up to squeeze hers over his own heart. "Am I going to be okay?"

"Of course you are," she says with a watery smile.

She's a terrible liar.

***

They're wheeling him into surgery. There's a line she can't go past, and they're getting closer and closer to it.

"Bones, listen to me," he says, weakly. He's on tons of medicine, has been out cold on painkillers and blood thinners for hours now.

She suspects what's coming and doesn't want to hear it. "Booth—"

"If something happens to me, I want you to use the rest of my stuff."

"Stuff? What stuff?"

Even here, sharing their last moments before he has _major brain surgery_, he's shy and awkward about this. "My sperm, Bones. If I don't make it, I want you to have our baby."

It's the first time either of them has used the word _our_ to describe this potential child, and it strikes something in Brennan.

"You're going to be fine, Booth."

"Promise me you'll have our baby."

She starts crying, realizing that, no matter what, she never considered being _actually_ alone for any of this. She and Booth are everything to each other. They share their thoughts and meals and lives with each other. Sure, she assumed the child would nominally be hers, but she never thought she wouldn't _have_ Booth to rely upon. And perhaps that was unfair, expecting him to continue being as involved in her life as he is now, the equivalent of about eighteen hours a day, give or take, without the proper "credit" of parenting this child. Because the more she imagines what having a baby would be like, the more she realizes—

"I can't do this without you."

"Bones—"

"Stop it. You're going to be fine. You have to be."

***

Conception is forgotten for the forty-eight hours Booth remains comatose after his surgery. The doctors assure her he is recovering quite well, that his unconsciousness is merely his body resting after such a major trauma. He is expected to wake up soon.

Brennan, for her part, does not leave his side. She goes home once, to take a shower and cry for a while, but she's back at the hospital before her hair is even dry.

She is right there, her chair poised in such a way that she can rest her elbow on the armrest and her chin in her hand while still maintaining a close watch on Booth, when he opens his eyes. She bolts out of the chair and over his body as he stirs, grabbing his hand in hers.

Finally, his eyes focus and he blinks a few times as her face becomes clear before him.

"There you are," he rasps, and she exhales loudly, using her free hand to wipe tears out of her eyes.

***

"You were there, Bones."

"Where?"

"In the place."

"I'm going to need you to be more specific."

They're situated on his sofa three days later. He's been released with a clean bill of health and permission to return to work after another week of rest. Booth and Brennan both know that's a formality; he's back to the old Booth already.

"I don't know what it was—a dream, a hallucination, purgatory, maybe—"

"The clot was pressing against your frontal lobe, Booth, and the doctor had a scope up your nose and into your brain. Your thoughts must have been wildly disjointed."

"Everything was different," he says, weightily. "Hodgins and Angela and Cam. Sweets and Caroline and my brother. Oh, and Zack. Your dad. They were all there, and they were all—different. But you. You were the same. You helped me. You were the one who told me to open my eyes, and you promised me you'd be there when I did. And you _were_."

She holds his hand, running her fingers casually up and down his forearm. "It's possible that your subconscious recognized my presence in the room, that it turned that into a vision of me."

"You're missing my point," he says with a smile. _Some things never change._

"Which is what?"

He meets her eyes, trying to burn in her brain the thing he's trying to say. He doesn't know what it _means _yet, but he knows it's important, and all he wants is for her to understand. "When everything was out of control, when I didn't know what to believe or where to go or how to get back, you guided me. You were my light in the darkness, and you saved me."

She takes a deep breath. She's usually terrible at metaphor, incapable of decoding his allegories. But there's something about the way he looks at her, different than any look they've ever shared (and yet so, so familiar somehow), that makes her understand.

"And you are mine," she whispers. She puts her hands on his face, pushing her thumbs against his cheekbones and running her fingers along his temples. She moves her thumbs to his lips, tracing the outline of his serious expression, and in a moment of uncontrolled _something_, he uses a hand to hold her fingers to his lips, kissing them lovingly one by one, their eyes never parting.

And when he is done placing ten feather-light kisses on the pads of ten graceful fingers, he takes her hand and presses another on her palm. And another on her wrist. He gets halfway to her elbow before she stops him, hooking a finger under his chin and pulling his gaze back up to hers.

"Booth—"

"I just want to be close to you," he says, sounding more vulnerable than she's ever heard.

She pulls herself into his lap, swinging one leg across his hips. "And I _need_ to be close to you." She kisses him, then, fingers returning to his jaw as her tongue sweeps gently across his lips.

It's just that for a few minutes, learning the contours of each other's lips and fingers. His hands sneak under her camisole, rubbing small circles on the small of her back, a place he knows so well, but never, never like this.

And then he stands, taking her with him, her legs staying wrapped around his waist and his hands moving to support her hips. She's surprised, breaking their kiss to look at him with a face full of shock. And he just smiles and walks her into his bedroom, one hand moving to support her head as he lowers her down onto the bed, joining her immediately.

When he moves his lips to her neck, she takes a deep breath and then stiffens. He senses it immediately and pulls back.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Booth, can we really do this?"

"Of course—"

"I mean, can we do this and not change?"

Logically, he knows they can't. Making love to Temperance Brennan _will_ change absolutely everything. But he's not sure it would change _more_ than has already been changed.

And he's not sure he wants to stop, even if it is going to change their whole world.

He smiles softly at her, touches a hand to her cheek. There's something so different about seeing her from this perspective, laid out beneath him, chest heaving. Yes, they've already changed.

"Bones..._no_."

He expects her to pull back then, to put the stops on this. He thinks maybe this is the closest they'll ever get, and maybe that's okay. (It's definitely not.)

"_Once_," she whispers thickly, choking on the word.

It's not the word he expected to hear, and it's both exhilarating and gruesome to hear her say it, as if any less is an option in this moment and any more would surely be asking too much of the heavens.

He kisses her soundly and moves his fingers to the hem of her camisole, asking permission.

"Once," he agrees, and at her silent assent he lifts the shirt over her head.

"Once," she repeats, reaching for the button on his jeans.

"Once," he says again, unclasping her bra.

"Once," she mutters against his lips, wriggling her feet to his, toeing off his socks.

"Once," he breathes heavily, and then it's just hearts beating, skin touching, finally, _finally_.

***

It ends up being more like four times, but who's counting?

She rolls over to watch him watch her, their eyes sparkling with this newfound knowledge of each other. There's a question in their eyes, in this bed, wondering which will be the first to acknowledge that they agreed to _once_.

"That was—"

"You were—"

"_We_ were—"

He laughs. "Look at that. Temperance Brennan's finally speechless."

"Shut up."

"You're right, though," he says, pushing her tangled hair away from her face and kissing her. He's going to do that as many times as he can before they decide their _once_ is up. "It was indescribable."

"Did you know, Booth? Did you know it would be like that?"

"God, no," he says. He drops his voice suggestively. "I mean, I _thought_ it would be good, but I didn't know it would be _that_ good."

She chuckles. "Me, too." Curling herself back into his body, she kisses him again. And she's never felt so close to _anyone _before this. Having been acutely aware of Booth's mortality in the last few days, she can't imagine anything other than _this _would have proven his vitality quite so effectively.

She is assured now that he is alive.

"I'm so glad we got to have this," she says.

Her use of the past tense tells him that they really are going to go with this _once_ business. "Me, too, Bones," he agrees.

She looks shy suddenly, and she brings her mouth to his ear to murmur, "Stay tonight?"

"Of course," he says, rolling her onto her side and pulling her closer to spoon up against him. He reaches for her hand, bringing their clasped hands to rest on her chest, feeling her heart beat strongly against his wrist.

Usually when she spends the night with men, she hates spooning. It's nice for a minute, but then it's too hot and stifling and close and, really, what's the point of having a king-sized bed if you're going to sleep pressed up against each other? But with Booth, she doesn't feel stifled. She feels _safe_, comforted by the sound of his soft breathing in her ear, the feel of his exhales against her skin. As if earlier hadn't been proof enough of their compatibility, they seem to fit perfectly here, as well.

"This is nice," she murmurs, sleepily.

He responds with an approving sigh, wiggling his fingers against hers, tucking his head into her neck, and breathing deeply, trying to memorize _this_, right here.

And as they lie there together, the weight of the evening sharing the bed with them, the last thing on their minds is the fact that they didn't use birth control.

And the last thing they would ever consider, wrapped up in each other's arms for the first and last time, is that somewhere, deep inside of her, there's something even more incredible going on.

***

It's a sunny day three weeks later when she suspects that something isn't quite right.

In typical Brennan fashion, it takes her all of three seconds once the suspicion hits to realize what's going on.

Stopped taking The Pill.

No condoms.

_Booth_.

She stops at CVS on her way home from work and calls Booth to come over. Her mind races as she walks back and forth around the apartment, the cardboard box and a big glass of water in her hand.

_If I can't be involved, I don't want her to have it._

_If something happens to me, I want you to have our baby._

_I just want to be close to you._

_Once._

He's there in record time, sensing that something is wrong from her tone even though she refused to tell him what's going on.

One glance at her standing there, grasping a pregnancy test and an empty glass, and his whole world is changed.

_I'm bleeding. I'm not pregnant._

_Can we do this and not change?_

_I'm so glad we got to have this._

_Once._

"Whoa, Bones—"

"I haven't taken it yet."

"God, what are you waiting for?"

"You!"

"Go, go!"

No use freaking out until they know for certain, one way or the other.

She shuts herself in the bathroom and he sits down on the edge of her bed. It hits him, the fact that they didn't think to use protection. Was it merely an oversight? Or did they somehow know, subconsciously, that this was how they would conceive their baby? He'd never had such an oversight with anyone else.

Somehow, he's comforted, knowing that if she is pregnant, it was _that_ night. This is _their_ baby, their baby conceived not in a lab, but in the most intimate, loving circumstances imaginable.

She comes out of the bathroom, holding the stick and sitting down beside him, not saying a word.

"How long?"

"Two minutes."

They just sit in silence, the two of them, not making any kind of contact, just sitting there counting. Once she's gotten to 120 in her head, she moves to turn it over. Before she can, he grabs her wrist and pulls her eyes to his. He still doesn't say anything, just runs his fingers down her wrist and palm until he's lacing his fingers with hers, both of them holding on for dear life.

She flips it over, and they are greeted with incontrovertible evidence. Two solid blue lines.

"Oh, my God," she says. "I'm pregnant."

The moment is heavy until he just starts laughing.

"What?" she asks, confused.

"I told you everything was gonna change."


	9. July 2009: A Conversation With Grandpa

**Notes**: This is very much inspired by "Cinderella in the Cardboard" and "Mayhem on a Cross." Thanks to Mae for giving it a glance-over and Leigh for coming up with a lot of the dialogue. (Without speculation, we might actually get work done.)

***

Max pushes into Booth's office, fuming. Booth, currently on the phone with the forensics techs, stares back at Max with quickly-veiled surprise.

"Booth, what the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" Max booms, arms akimbo.

"Yeah, I'm gonna have to call you back," Booth tells Marcus. He sets the phone gently into its cradle and looks up at his partner's father. "What can I do for you, Max?"

"Well, you could marry my daughter for starters."

Booth shakes his head and laughs. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You're the one who got her pregnant, right? The least you could do is make an honest woman out of her."

Booth's eyes are huge as he considers Max's outlandish request. He tries to start his reply three times before it finally takes. "Max, we're talking about your daughter here. _Temperance Brennan_. You really think somebody needs to make an _honest woman_ out of Temperance Brennan?"

"It's a figure of speech, Booth."

"I know what it means."

"So what, then?" Max challenges. "You're just going to leave her to raise _your _baby all by herself?"

"No, not at all. I'm going to be there for her and for the baby. We're just…we're not together."

"God, of all the pansy-ass things I've heard and said over the years, that's about the most pansy-ass--"

Booth is upset. He's been dealing with the pregnancy thing in his own way so far, trying not to stress about the changing nuances of their relationship. He struggles daily, though, with the challenges he knows he's about to face, the implicit paradoxes involved in raising a baby with Bones without being _with _Bones. "Stop it, Max," he says, lowering his eyes and tone of voice.

Max approaches Booth, arms crossed, eyes boring into Booth's. "It is your duty as a man to take care of that woman and her child. You _will_ do right by my daughter."

And that's it.

Booth advances on the older man, aggressive but calm. His best intimidating pose. "You really want to talk to me about _duty_? And _manhood_? And _Temperance_? Max, you don't know her at all."

"Excuse me?"

"You really think _I'm_ the one holding this thing back? You think I'm the one who doesn't want to be with her? Why don't you go ask her, huh? Go now, and you ask Bones what she thinks about families and relationships and marriage." Max sets his jaw as Booth continues, trying not to look like he's just lost this battle. "And then, Max, why don't you ask her _why_ she thinks that."

"You're saying this is my fault."

"Yeah, Max. It's your fault."

Max knows he can't argue with Booth that he abandoned her. But he will fight to the death anyone who suggests he doesn't love his daughter, wouldn't always choose to do what's right for her. "Her mother and I didn't have a choice. They would have killed her and Russ. You know that."

"You had a choice not to be criminals. You had a choice not to put them in danger in the first place."

"Aren't _you_ in danger every day?"

"I'm in danger, yes. Not my kid."

"You put my daughter in danger."

"You abandoned her. _Everything_ that happened after that was _your_ fault. She's afraid to trust me, that's your fault. She's afraid to love her baby, that's your fault. And if you think, for one _second_, that I would ever do to her or our baby the things _you_ did to her, to _your_ baby, then you've got a lifetime of surprise waiting for you."

***

"Dad!" Brennan says, surprised to see her father in her office doorway. Although he's still working part-time at the Jeffersonian, he does a good job keeping his distance. He's a constant presence, but not an overbearing one.

"Hey, sweetheart."

"What are you doing here?"

"Does a man have to have a reason to pop in on his daughter? I just wanted to see how my little girl and my grandbaby are doing." He sits on the couch opposite her desk.

"Oh. I'm fine. The fetus is fine."

"You doing okay? Your mother had terrible morning sickness with your brother."

"No, it's okay. A little bit, at the beginning, but it's pretty much passed." She moves around her desk, putting aside her work for the time being so she can catch up with her father.

"With you, your mother didn't have any morning sickness. I bet you're having a girl."

"I don't believe in old wives tales."

"Ah, of course."

"But, uh, Booth is convinced it's a girl." Max notices how her face lights up at the mention of her partner. _God, if she could only see what he sees._

"Really?"

"He already calls it a _she_."

"He's a good man. A good father."

Brennan nods, smiling softly. "Yes. He is."

"You know, Temperance, you should marry that man."

"Dad--"

"I know I was a terrible father to you kids, and I know I have no right to give you advice or try to be a parent now, but, sweetheart, that man wants nothing more than to love you, and you should let him. Be a family." Brennan's eyes unexpectedly well up with tears, and she hurries to blink them away.

"It's not…that easy."

Max moves to sit closer to his daughter, patting her hand affectionately. "I'm sure it feels that way, but it is that easy. Everything I couldn't give you, you and Booth can give to your baby."

And then she feels defensive. Max notices that, when pushed, she and Booth react in the exact same manner. She crosses her arms over her chest and stares him straight in the eye. "I'm not having this baby to redeem _your_ mistakes."

"Of course. I know."

And she's gone.

***

Booth finds Brennan at his apartment when he gets home. She's typing furiously on her laptop, set up on his couch. He tosses his keys onto the table by the door and follows the sound of her keyboard into the living room, where she looks up guiltily.

"I'm sorry. I had a thing with my father today, and I didn't want him to come looking for me."

He smiles affectionately, plopping down beside her, pulling one foot up to rest on his other knee. "Well, I'm not sure my house is the best hiding spot. I had a thing with your father today, too."

"You did?"

"He came to see me. Wanted to know why I wouldn't make an honest woman out of you."

"I don't know what that means."

"He wanted to know why we're not married."

She rolls her eyes, shutting her laptop and placing it on the coffee table. "I'm sorry he did that."

"Bones, you don't have to apologize for Max. Ever."

"Yeah, but--"

"Never."

When she meets his eyes, her eyes are welled up with tears again. She could blame it on her hormones, but she knows it's more than that. "Booth, I'm so scared."

He's immediately in comfort mode, scooting closer to her and putting an arm around her shoulders. "Why? What's wrong?"

"I don't have anything to…_go on_," she says, heartbroken. "My parents were _my parents_, and after they left, all I had were foster families and social workers until college. Scientifically, I have no best practices on which to replicate my behavior."

"Bones--"

"And, hey, neither do you."

"Hey," he says softly, trying to calm her down. "You've seen Parker. He's turning out okay, right? It's not all about our parents."

"Booth, I don't know what to do. I have no idea what it means to be a good mother. I only know what it means to be a _bad_ one."

He nods, touching her face. "Well, that's something, there. And, you know what, Bones? All you have to do to be a good parent is love your baby."

Her face breaks, and she looks up at Booth with confusion and heartache. _Love_, again. That indefinable constant that she still can't wrap her brain around. If she can't bring herself to define her feelings for Booth as love, how should she be expected to feel it for someone she doesn't even _know_ yet? "But what if I--"

"No. Bones. Of _course_ you're gonna love your baby," he says, laying a hand on her still-flat belly. "I swear it. All these things you think you don't feel, _can't_ feel. Just wait until you see her."

"You promise?"

"You and me, we're not our parents."

***

Three years later, a little girl breaks a glass. She shouldn't be trying to carry the glass of milk by herself anyway, and she knows that. But she hears _Yo Gabba Gabba_ starting in the other room, and she makes it halfway out of the kitchen, glass clutched in her chubby little fingers, before it slips from her grasp and busts into tiny pieces, milk flying everywhere.

She immediately starts crying, partly in fear and surprise, and partly because she knows she's about to get in trouble.

Her parents hear the clatter and the cry and rush to her side. Ella is standing in the middle of the floor, surrounded by broken glass and spilled milk. "Please don't be mad at me, Mommy," she wails.

Brennan scoops Ella up off the floor, running fingers over her bare feet to check for glass, as Booth surveys the minimal damage and picks up the big pieces. "You're okay, baby girl," she says, switching the little girl's position so she can rest her head on her mother's shoulder. Brennan rubs Ella's back gently as her cries slowly turn to hiccups. "I'm not mad."

She's really not. Yes, Ella broke the rules; big girl cups stay at the kitchen table, only water in a sippy cup is allowed in the living room. But the fear that rushed over her when she heard the little girl shriek--and the relief when she saw the minor results of the accident--far outweigh any _anger_ she's feeling toward the three-year-old.

"It was an accident, Bee," Booth says, kissing her cheek. He meets Brennan's eye to verify that _she_ is okay. She nods, shooting him a sad smile. Ella has her moments of sensitivity, and this one isn't out of the ordinary, but there's that feeling in Brennan, triggered by the sound of the glass hitting the floor, that makes her realize, even if her daughter is completely unaware, that this is one of those moments where she outshines her past.

"Do you understand why there are rules about carrying glasses, though?" Brennan asks, pulling back to meet her daughter's eyes.

"Yes, Mommy. I breaked your glass."

"Sweetheart, I don't care that you _broke_ the glass," she says, running her fingers through Ella's hair. "I _care_ about these little feet that I love so much," she says, reaching down to tickle one of those precious feet. Ella laughs, wiggling in her mother's arms. "So what do you say?" Brennan asks, depositing the little girl back on the floor.

Ella looks up earnestly with those big Seeley Booth brown eyes and says, "I'm sorry, Mommy."

"Thank you," Brennan says, ruffling her hair. "I love you very much, Ella Booth."

Booth just smiles. He's watching the whole thing with amazement, like always. Like he hasn't seen Brennan constructively discipline their daughter a thousand times in the last three years. He hands Ella a sippy cup full of water silently and sends her off to watch TV.

"Thanks, Daddy," she says. He nods in response and she leaves the room, skipping into the living room. As soon as she's gone, Booth's arms are around Brennan.

"You okay?"

"_Yeah_. I am."

They stand there for a moment, as he rubs her back affectionately like she just did for their daughter moments ago. He pulls back to look her in the eye, pushing the hair off her neck to say, "_You_ are such a good mom." She smiles, her eyes a little watery.

She kisses him, quick, a silent expression of thanks. "I love you," she says, and he beams.

"I love you, too."

They've been together for years now, but he never gets tired of hearing her say that. He thinks about how far she's come, not just since he met her, but since she was a child terrified of breaking a dish. And he thinks about Ella, both conscientious and unafraid, both sensitive and fearless. There are a lot of reasons why having a baby--_this_ baby--has brought nothing but happiness to their lives, but in moments like this, he can't help but think that _redemption_ feels pretty good.


	10. February 2010: PostPartum

**Notes**: ::Hangs head in shame:: Here's the last chapter of what started as a piece of speculation and ends as a sad reminder that I am not on the writing staff. (Actually, this is just a big ol' pile of fluff. And an epilogue will soon follow.)

***

Dr. Wilder scoops the baby off Brennan's chest quickly, leaving her feeling immediately bereft. It's the first time since conception that mother and daughter have been out of contact, and Brennan feels the loss more than she thinks she should in this situation.

Eyes wide, she darts her glance manically from the doctor to Booth, panic evident in her face.

Booth puts a hand on her arm and says, softly, "It's okay. They're just cleaning her up. Give them a minute."

"Well, go check on her!" she tells him, and he chuckles. They can see her, surrounded by professionals across the room, but he does as he's told. With one last squeeze of her hand, he heads over to supervise the efforts.

"Bones, she's perfect," he says. "She looks just like you."

"Do you want to take her, Dad?" the nurse asks, having finished wrapping her up in a little pink blanket. Booth is stunned silent, being offered this precious thing that he somehow, miraculously, has some kind of _claim_ to. He just nods, and the nurse places the baby gently into his arms. She's so tiny, so warm, so splotchy. She has _fingernails_.

Brennan looks up at Booth from the bed, holding their baby in his arms. She knows now, watching him watch their daughter, that no matter what she thought in the beginning, this has always been _their_ baby.

"Bones, she's _here_," he says, reverently. He sits on the edge of the bed and hands the baby to her mother.

Brennan was never taught to hold a baby. But she uses her knowledge of the infant skeletal structure, as well as some instinct she finds _somewhere_, to find the right placement.

And then she just starts crying.

Booth smiles, watching his Bones become a new person in the face of their little daughter. It's like he can see her world changing in front of her eyes, sees her brain reevaluate, reorganize.

"Booth?" she cries, meeting his eyes intently. "Booth, do you feel that?"

"Yeah, Bones."

"_Oh, my God_," she sobs. "I just—"

"I know."

"You were right."

He smirks. "I know."

She looks back to the little girl, who's making this content little gurgling sound, and she runs a finger softly over the baby's face. "Hello, baby girl," she says, her first words to her daughter. "Oh, I love you."

***

The sun is rapidly setting, framed in the hospital window facing the corner of New Hampshire and I. The room is bathed in a reddish glow, casting shadows across its three very tired occupants. The smallest occupant opens her mouth wide in a big yawn, and the man looking down at her can't help but gasp softly with delight. Sneaking a glance at the woman asleep in the bed—finally—the man surreptitiously scoops the tiny bundle up out of the bassinet and settles himself in the rocking chair by the window, quietly flicking on a small lamp.

It's Booth's first alone time with his daughter _ever_.

Ella Booth is seven hours and twenty-three minutes old, he calculates. Her eyes flutter open at the soft light, and Booth gasps when she makes eye contact with him. He swears a flash of recognition crosses the baby's face, like she already _knows_ him. He thinks that must be a nice feeling for her, since he's overwhelmed with the mystery she's brought with her. This little girl is brand new and full of unknowns.

"I don't want to freak you out," he whispers. "I know you've had a very busy day, but I just wanted you to know that...I'm your dad."

Cradling her easily with one arm, he runs a finger delicately over the baby's face, marveling at her precise features. He can already tell she's got her mother's cheekbones, her mother's mouth, and, God willing, her mother's nose, but those eyes are all Dad.

"Did we tell you we named you? Things have been pretty hectic, baby girl, and my brain feels pretty fried, so I can't remember if we forgot to tell you what your name is. Sweetheart, your name is Bee." He pauses to watch her yawn again. God, he can't believe how a _yawn_ can be so damn captivating and precious. "If Mom was awake, she'd correct me, because your name is really _Ella_ and Mom says she's not big on nicknames. But your mom got used to her nickname, so I think she's just going to have to get used to the fact that you are most definitely a _Bee_."

He looks over at Ella's mother, taking her first nap since giving birth to the most perfect little person _ever_. She looks so peaceful, and even though he'd never say it to her face, he feels like there's something about having a baby that makes her seem complete. Like she's come full circle.

Temperance and Ella.

"That's your mom over there," he tells Bee, pointing to Brennan before quickly returning his hand to the warm bundle in his arms. He strokes the top of her head, just barely dotted with the tiniest bit of brown hair, and pulls her close to his heart. She reaches a tiny hand in his direction, not with any kind of purpose, and he offers his finger to her. She surprises him when she grasps his finger—all five of her tiny digits not even coming close to wrapping around his index finger—and he finds himself tearing up (not for the first time today). He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of her sweet little head, still awestruck at his tiny daughter.

His _daughter_.

His daughter—with _Bones_.

Their daughter.

His protection instinct, which has been in overdrive since he and Brennan turned that blue stick over, is now overwhelming his senses. He has no idea what's going to happen once they get little Bee home, no idea what's going to happen when Bones wakes up from her nap. Suddenly, this little introductory conversation feels like a confessional. Like there are certain things that Ella Brennan Booth should know now, at the get-go. Checking once again to make sure Brennan is still sleeping, he softly wiggles Bee's hand to get her attention.

"Sweetheart, there's a possibility that things are going to get confusing later. Listen up, because there are a couple of things you should know before that happens. Your mom and I, we're not going to be like all of your friends' parents. We don't live together, and we aren't...involved. That way. You don't know what that means, but I'm not going to explain it to you. Your mom will explain that, I'm _sure_, in great and disgusting detail. But not until you're at least thirty-five, okay? Listen, you need to know that just because Mom and I aren't together doesn't mean that we don't love you, and it doesn't mean that I'm not going to be here for you every single second of every single day. I'm going to see you all the time, because Mom and I spend a _lot_ of time together. And now the three of us are going to spend a lot of time together."

She makes a little gurgling noise, and his heart sings again.

"That's right, Bee, you _are_ the luckiest baby in the world. Now, pay attention, 'cause this part's really important: I have never and _will_ never love anyone the way I love your mother. I mean, you're rapidly climbing the charts, but that's different. Your mom, Bee, she is so special and so smart and so beautiful..."

He lowers his voice to a whisper— "She's the love of my life."

He's teary _again_ as he looks from daughter to mother and back again. "And I'm _working_ on it, I really am. There is nothing I want more than to have both of you in my house every night, so that Daddy never has to worry about you or Mom being hungry or cold or in danger..." His voice trails off as the baby's eyes flutter closed.

God, this is going to be hard.

He says a silent prayer of thanksgiving for this child, who is healthy and beautiful and obviously brilliant. And he prays for the strength to support this fragile family, to nurture both of these girls, and to be the man they need him to be. Father and partner—that he can do. Anything more, anything she (either she) needs, he's ready and willing to provide.

The baby has fallen asleep in her father's arms, and he gently, slowly moves her so she's resting against his chest. He whispers "I love you, baby girl," into her ear, just as Brennan stirs.

It takes her a moment to get her bearings before she rolls over in a start to face the bedside bassinet. Finding it empty, she lifts her eyes to meet Booth's, relieved and dumbstruck to see him cuddling their baby. His big hands and broad chest dwarf the little girl, making her look even smaller than her six pounds, three ounces.

There's a feeling in her heart that she can't quite identify, but it sure feels good. Hormones are swirling, promoting her postpartum bond with her daughter, but there's something different about the way she sees Booth now. Like in this transformation from just her partner to her daughter's father, she's found a wholly new facet of him she didn't know before. She likes it.

"How is she?"

Booth smiles warmly, his heart awash with love. "She's perfect."

"Can I see her?" she asks, almost timidly.

"Of course," Booth says sweetly, before delicately moving to place his daughter into Brennan's tentative arms. He stands awkwardly to the side, looking down at Brennan discovering their daughter in the same way he's just done.

"I think she has your mouth, Bones."

"We do share obvious facial similarities," she concurs. "Those eyes come right from her father, though."

"She'll deal with it."

They just stare at Bee for a few moments, still so overcome with every feeling felt. Booth sits down on the edge of the bed, just barely making contact with Brennan's side.

"Rebecca's going to bring Parker by tomorrow morning."

"Is he excited?"

Booth chuckles, a deep, quiet laugh. "Are you kidding? He's beside himself. I'll be surprised if he sleeps he's so excited."

"He's not disappointed she's not a boy?"

"Nah. The big brother thing—it's all the same."

Brennan looks down at her daughter, totally helpless. "I'm glad she has him."

"Me, too, Bones."

After another minute of watching her sleep, Brennan lifts her eyes to her partner. When she does, he's surprised to see her eyes full of unshed tears.

"Booth, she's so beautiful."

He leans down and pushes her messy bangs away from her face, sweeping his lips across her forehead. "You did good," he murmurs, pressing one resolute kiss to her temple.

She reaches one hand up to cup his cheek, bringing his gaze to meet hers. It's an undeniably romantic moment—sitting here, just as night falls, their brand new daughter breathing deeply in her mother's arms—and he's not sure if he's surprised or not when she smiles just so and cranes her neck to capture his lips in a soft kiss.

It's short—after all, there _is_ a child present—but it's one of the most intimate moments they've ever shared.

She smiles again and whispers a tremulous, "Thank you."

He's not quite sure what she's so thankful for—the kiss, the baby, the idea that a kid wouldn't be so bad in the first place—but he just smiles back and says, "You're welcome."

And in that moment, witnessing his partner and his daughter forging a precious bond, he knows he's going to do whatever it takes to keep this family together.


	11. May 2011: Epilogue

**Notes**: Thanks to **_missmargaret_** for helping me get the characters right in this chapter--I really appreciate it! Thanks to Leigh, **mae_vaughan** , and **larissafae** for their help since the beginning. And, of course, thank you to all of you, everyone who's reviewed this fic in the last couple months.

---

Bee is fifteen months old when they finally figure it out.

After dinner with Grandpa—shockingly meltdown-free considering the youngest member of the family had a less than awesome nap today—Ella is totally sacked out in her car seat, head lolled to the side as Booth pulls into the garage under Brennan's building.

Booth and Brennan talk in whispers as they formulate a plan to get the baby inside without waking her. Brennan gets assigned to the diaper bag and dinner leftovers; Booth's in charge of wiggling his little Bee out of her car seat and carrying her upstairs.

He manages to unbuckle her and weasel her into his arms without disrupting her too much. She stirs slightly but doesn't fully wake, instead drowsily wrapping an arm around her father's neck and resting her head against his shoulder. Brennan calls the elevator from the garage, watching as Booth rubs the baby's back softly up and down, whispering something quiet and private into her ear.

Brennan sighs heavily, holding the door open for her partner. They make it up to her floor and into the apartment, where Brennan puts the leftovers in the fridge and Booth signals that he's going to put the baby to bed.

He continues to talk softly at Ella, murmuring mostly nonsense to her as he changes her from her little pink dress into the yellow bee jammies he bought for her a few weeks ago.

"Pretty tired, huh, Bee?" he asks rhetorically, surprised that she hasn't opened her eyes despite all the jostling.

"Tomorrow's a big day," he tells her, snapping up the side of the onesie. "It's Saturday, so you get to spend the _whole_ day with me and Mom and Parker. Fun, huh?"

She finally stirs, opening her eyes wide and looking up at Booth. When her fogginess clears, she recognizes her father and smiles, then yawns that yawn that has had Booth captivated since the day she was born.

"Dada!" she says, pointing up at him.

"That's right," he says with a smile. "I'm your dada."

He holds her little hand for a moment, running his thumb over the backs of her fingers. Gently, he picks her up off the changing table and lays her down in her crib, fixing her socks and fussing over her for another minute before reaching out of the crib.

"Goodnight, little Bee," he says. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, okay?"

Her eyelids are drooping, but she reaches a hand up to him and says, again, "Dada."

"And don't you forget it," he says, leaning in one more time to kiss her cheek before leaving the nursery. He pulls the door shut behind him and leans heavily against the wall. He takes a few deep breaths, preparing himself to go be Happy Daddy for Bones.

Unfortunately, she interrupts his exercise in fake smiles when she tiptoes down the hallway to ask, "Did you get her down?"

He steels himself quickly, looking back up at her. "Yeah, she's out."

"Thank you," she says, heading toward her own bedroom.

"Not a problem."

His syntax is a little too clipped, his tone a little too upbeat.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"What? Nothing's wrong."

"Booth—"

"I'm fine."

But she sees through it. It almost makes him long for the days when even the most overt expressions of emotion flew right past her. She grabs his hand and pulls him down the hallway, back into the living room and away from the sleeping baby.

"What's going on?"

He laughs, a low, hollow chuckle. "Bee's got the Dada thing down."

Brennan smiles. "I know. It's her favorite word. All day, Dada, Dada, Dada."

He laughs again, but this time, his eyes are watery. "Did you ever think it would be like this?"

He doesn't specify what _this_ is, but she just knows. "No. I didn't."

"She's just...my God, Bones, she's _perfect_."

"I know. I mean, perfection of the human species is far from quantifiable, but I would have to agree that she comes about as close as possible."

"And she's _ours_."

Brennan just smiles, looking at Booth and feeling overwhelmed. _What a good decision I made_, she thinks. When she first considered the possibility of becoming a mother, she figured she'd do it by herself, using Booth's highly complementary genetic material to conceive an ideal child. Now, though, she knows that what makes Booth the ideal candidate for her to procreate with isn't his DNA. It's _Booth_. Booth, whose world revolves around that little girl. Booth, who sings her songs and tickles her toes and flies her around the room making airplane noises until Ella is screaming with laughter. Booth, who cradles her in his strong arms and rocks her to sleep at night. He is _such_ a good father.

"Bones, I knew this would be hard, but I didn't think it would be _this_ hard."

"What?"

"I hate leaving her. I hate leaving _you_."

"Booth, we're _fine_."

"I know _you_ are. I know _she_ is. But—I'm not. Right now, as a father, as a man, the idea of walking out that door just makes my stomach churn."

"Then don't go. Stay, sleep on the couch."

"Thanks, Bones, but it's not just that. It's...like today, we close a case, we pick up Bee from daycare, we go to dinner with your father, we put Bee to bed. We're a family. Except the messed-up part is that at the end of the day, I go home and sleep across town. And then I wake up in the morning, take a shower, and the first thing I do is high-tail it back over here to be with you and the baby."

"Hey, I asked you to move in—"

"Me moving in wouldn't change the fact that you and I aren't together."

She crosses her arms over her chest and nods. "No, it wouldn't."

They stare at each other, locked in a conversational stalemate, before Booth breaks the silence several seconds later. "Katie Gray asked me out today."

She jerks her head, taken aback. "Oh."

"What do you think about that?"

She can't bring herself to look him straight in the eye as she says, "I think—I think that's great. I think you should go for it. Agent Gray is exactly your type."

"You do?" he says, stooping to try and meet her line of sight.

Once he's succeeded, she steels herself. "Absolutely."

"It wouldn't make you upset? Not even a little jealous?"

"I'll admit that my first reaction was one of jealousy, but that was irrational and unfair."

"Why?"

"You're allowed to date, Booth."

He takes a breath and moves into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water from the tap. She's quick to follow, he notices.

"You should drink the filtered water," she says, gesturing to the fridge.

"Makes you stronger," he says, waving her off and leaning against the counter. "I said no."

"What? Why?"

"Because going out on a date would mean sacrificing a night here with you and Bee."

"That's silly," she says, shaking her head, even though she _knows _it's not. She's made plenty of her own sacrifices in the last two years for alone time with Booth and their daughter. "You can't use me and the baby as an excuse not to have a life."

"You're not an _excuse_, Bones."

"That's—"

He drops his shoulders, defeated. "Why do I even have to do this? Why can't we just be a family? Why do you encourage me to date other women when you _know_ that I will always, always be yours?"

"I just want you to be happy. The baby thing was my idea; I never wanted to rope you into a whole life with me."

"Well, you got me. I'm here every morning and every night. You're Mama, and I'm Daddy. When are you going to realize that I'm _here_?"

"You _are_ here. Ella knows how much you love her."

"But do _you_ know? My God, Bones, I'm _with_ you. The only thing keeping us from being officially together is that we don't have sex. I don't know, Bones, was it _that_ bad?"

"I think you know it wasn't bad."

"Then what are we doing? Why aren't we together?"

"Is it really all about sex to you? 'Cause if you want to have sex with me, I wouldn't be opposed to—"

"It's not about sex! It's about being able to plan for the next forty years together without freaking you out--even though we _both _know it's going to be at least that long before we get sick of each other. It's about being able to, I don't know, _not_ have to think about whether or not I should go out with Katie Gray! As _if _I could possibly make it work with anyone besides you. As ifI would even _want_ to! But maybe I should, if you _really _don't feel anything for me. But maybe I shouldn't, because even if it takes you forty years to figure it all out, I still want to be ready when that happens. But, Bones, I am ready. I am ready right now. All I have ever wanted was to have a _whole_ life with you and our daughter. God, Bones, our _daughter_."

"We can't be together just because of Ella."

"Are you listening?! It's not _about _Ella!" He balls his fists at his sides and seethes, and when he speaks, his voice is like she's never heard before: bitter, biting. "What's _wrong_ with you?"

"What?"

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you, Bones? I've been trying for years to figure you out, and I still have no idea how your mind works. I just…" He trails off, not sure how to continue. He meets her eyes, overwhelmed again at their connection, and asks, "How could you _possibly_ need anything more than this?"

"I can't—"

He moves toward her now, grabbing her hand and placing it roughly against his chest, holding it there. "Do you _really_ not feel it? Does your heart not race? You don't find it difficult to breathe? Get that funny taste in your mouth? Don't you feel your heart swell up inside your chest?"

"Booth, that's not—"

"Scientifically accurate. I know. Bones, _nothing_ about our relationship is about science. You can talk about physiological responses all you want, but I was _there_ that night, and that was _not_ about science."

"But—"

"You love me. I know you do. I see it in your eyes sometimes. Not all the time, but sometimes. When you haven't seen me in a while. When you touch me." He stares deep into her eyes, burning his glare into her tearful expression. "The night we conceived our baby."

"Booth--"

"You can come back at me and tell me that I'm imagining things, but you have no idea what you're talking about, because _you_ and _me_ are in love. And there is nothing I want more, nothing I will ever want more, than for you to suck it up and admit it and trust me enough to know that it won't change you. God, Temperance, I don't _want_ you to change. I don't want you to be anything but the person you are. Because I'm not too scared to admit that I? I am unbelievably in love with _you_."

The room is silent for a moment, as Booth drops her hand and turns his back to her, taking a swig from a water glass on the island.

When he turns back around a few moments later, she's closer than he expected. Very close. "What are you doing?" he asks, backing away when she reaches for him.

"I'm sorry, Booth."

He laughs hollowly. "You don't need to be sorry. Just, please, be honest with me."

There's a sense in the room that this is probably it. They may never come back from this conversation. And as she thinks about the possibilities therein, she surprises herself with a realization. She'd survived her parents' abandonment, her brother's betrayal, Zack's crimes. But she knows she'd never survive without Booth. She thinks, tries so hard to verbalize something that doesn't seem part of her vocabulary. After a deep breath and a few false starts, she says, "I don't know what it means or what I want, but I am certain that I feel something for you that I have never felt for anyone else. And you're…you are Ella's father and that _means_ something to me. But I _can't_ know that I'm going to feel that beyond right now. How can you _know _that?"

"I know because you make me feel…whole. Complete. Like the person I'm supposed to be."

"I know, but--"

He stops. "You do?"

"Yeah." It's a huge admission, and she didn't even know she made it.

He moves toward her again, taking her hands and bringing their joined fingers between them. "Bones, please. Listen to me. I know. And I swear to you, I will try every single day to make you keep feeling that way. I swear."

She unlinks their fingers and his heart breaks momentarily, but then she grasps his wrists and pulls him closer, tentatively. "You really love me?" she murmurs.

"_Yeah_," he says.

She sighs heavily, her thumbs making circles on the pressure points inside his wrists. Stretching up slightly, she places a very soft kiss on his lips. "I think…I think I might, too."

It's conditional. It's indefinite. It's still full of questions. But it is also full of promise, and it is more than she has ever said to him. And so he wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her close, _finally_, and says, "_Let me show you._"

---

Hours later, they lie awake in bed. Brennan traces a finger along Booth's jaw line and down his neck, trying to memorize the angles of his physique.

"I taught Ella something special for her to show you."

"You did?" he asks, amused.

"She's a fast learner."

"Of course she is, she's got you for a mom."

Brennan moves in closer to Booth, running her hands up his chest and pressing her lips to his. Their first night together had been intense, like they were caught on fire. Tonight, it's more of a slow burn, a feeling of completeness washing over them. The uncertainty of the night they conceived Ella is now replaced with an undeniable _sureness_.

Just as he pulls himself over her, a demanding shout comes over the baby monitor. "Mama!" Ella calls. "Mama, Mama!" Booth rolls off of Brennan and rubs a hand over his face.

"You wanna get her or should I?"

"I'll get her," Brennan says, searching the room for her pajamas. Coming up empty-handed, she pulls on Booth's shirt. With a smile, she throws over her shoulder, "She asked for me."

Booth pulls on his discarded boxer briefs and listens over the monitor as Brennan pads down the hall into the nursery. "Ella Booth," she sing-songs, "You have less than stellar timing."

"Mama!" Ella squeals in recognition, obviously seeing her mother's face lean over her crib. She continues to babble as Brennan checks her diaper and adjusts her wayward socks.

"Hey, Ella, guess who's here?" At the child's non-response, Brennan answers for her, "Your _daddy_ is here."

"Dada?!"

"You wanna go see your daddy?"

"Dada!"

It's almost entirely mimicry, Brennan knows, but Ella _is_ incredibly enthusiastic about her father. She's got a daddy's girl on her hands, and she knows it.

Booth's heart soars at the sight of Bones and Bee standing in the doorway. Brennan's wearing nothing but his blue dress shirt, hair wild and curly, and little Ella has two fingers shoved in her mouth.

_My girls_, he thinks. _Mine_.

"Hey, little Bee! How's my girl?" he baby talks, as Brennan hands Ella over to her father.

"Dadadadada," she babbles, reaching for him.

Brennan climbs back under the covers as Ella plops herself down on Booth's chest. Father and daughter hold hands to keep the little girl balanced, and Brennan rolls onto her side to involve herself in their late-night interaction.

It almost seems like Ella understands what's going on when she looks back and forth between her parents and asks, "Mamadada?"

"Bee, your parents have seen the light," Booth says, looking over at Brennan with a huge smile on his face.

"What light?"

The baby tumbles onto her bottom, hitting Booth's chest with a thud and a surprised gasp from her dad, who's smiling wide and still holding her little hands.

"Whoa!" she breathes.

Booth laughs. "Do you have a new word there?"

"She knows _whoa_, _car_, _sock_...obviously _Mama _and _Dada_... Oh, she knows _go_. Basically if there was any confusion as to her paternity, there isn't anymore."

"Are you a daddy's girl, Bee?"

Ella laughs, amused, like she knows just how tightly she's got her daddy wrapped around her finger. "Dada!"

"I will _never_ get tired of hearing _that_."

"Oh! Booth! Let's see if I can get her to do her thing!"

Booth lifts the baby off his chest and deposits her between himself and Brennan. "Go see Mommy, Bee. I want to see this special trick."

Brennan grabs Ella's hand and looks at her with a face full of excitement. It's one of Booth's favorite things about seeing Bones as a mother—her unbridled enthusiasm for their daughter. Never, not once before Ella's birth would he have characterized an expression of Brennan's as _delighted_. Now, he sees it on her face every day, every time she bonds with their baby.

"Ella, can you show Daddy how a bee goes?"

Booth's eyes light up with anticipation of the cuteness to come. Ella ignores her mother the first time, just pulling on Brennan's hand, concentrating on her mother's red nail polish.

"Ella, how does a bee go?"

Brennan tickles Ella's tummy, getting her attention _and_ a giggle.

"Show Daddy how a bee goes."

Ella takes a big breath of air and looks at her dad. "Bzzzzzzzzzzzz!" she shrieks.

Booth gasps in delight and snatches her back from Brennan, holding the little girl in a tight hug as he laughs.

"Oh, baby girl, you're so smart," he says, "And so pretty."

Brennan smiles, watching the two of them together. Her _family_. "Maybe we'll work on _thank you_ next, huh?"

Booth laughs again, holding Ella's hands in his own and clapping them together. "Hey, Bones?" he asks, looking up from the baby momentarily. "Thank _you_."

"Any time," she answers, and turns her attention back to Ella. "You ready to go back to bed, Ella? We probably shouldn't have gotten you so riled up in the middle of the night."

"Aww, Bee, tell your mommy there's no such thing as bedtime!"

Brennan cocks an eyebrow suggestively in his direction. "You sure about that?"

He jumps out of bed, taking Ella with him. "Come on, baby girl, time for bed!"

He cuddles the little girl to his chest, trying to calm her down as he walks her around the apartment. He pads through the kitchen and makes a bottle, rubbing soothing circles against Ella's back as they wait for the microwave. Heading back into the nursery, he settles into the rocking chair and rocks Ella while she has her nightcap. "Okay, time for night-night, little Bee."

She places a hand against his bare chest and he is reminded--again--of how much he loves being this baby's father.

Brennan lays awake in her bed, listening in rapture to her partner babble at their daughter. "I love you so much," she hears him say, and she knows how true it is. It's amazing, to know that another person cares as deeply about Ella as she does. To feel so secure about Ella's future, knowing that they both have Booth on their side. Brennan rolls onto her back and stares at the ceiling, trying to pinpoint anything that has changed in the night. Is Booth more of something now than he was three hours ago? Or are they the same, just more honest?

"Okay," he whispers, lowering Ella into her crib. "I'll see you in the morning."

He kisses her a few more times, telling her again how much he loves her. And then he is there, in Brennan's bedroom, leaning down to kiss the other woman in his life, the only adult woman he's ever _really_ loved.

She reaches for him, and his heart pounds in his chest. He prays that this feeling of completeness never goes away, that she keeps reaching for him for the rest of their lives. (_She will._) She pulls him into the bed with her and they smile, still silent, like it's the easiest, most natural thing they've ever done. (_It is._) She rubs her nose against his, laughing softly against his lips, and whispers, "I love you," in the dark. (_She does._)

And as he settles beside her, smiling as their tired bodies come to rest in a perfect, sleepy fit, he responds in kind. She thinks she could be happy, just having middle-of-the-nights like this forever. (_And she is._)


End file.
